


Hurricane

by thelibertybehinddeliburration



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Ao3 is being a dick with word limits so, Child abuse (one chapter), Gen, Guys there will be angst, Hurricanes, I reply to comments the day before, I update every 5 days, In which case I reply earlier, Infidelity, Major daddy issues, Mentions of Suicide, Okay but everyone is queer af, Or starting the 5th of every new month, Possibly More Tags To Come, Unrequited Love, What am I doing, Yay I'm adding more tags, also this is going to be a rlly long story, but here we are, cause that seems to be a big thing, eating disorder (kinda), i didn't think I'd write this much, i think I might have a 'choose how you want it to end tho', idk - Freeform, im literally writing as I go I don't have a plan, im not complaining tho, non binary lafayette, physical violence, seriously so many fics portray Laf as NB, theres some dark shit that's going to happen, unless there are questions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 104
Words: 218,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelibertybehinddeliburration/pseuds/thelibertybehinddeliburration
Summary: "John let out a muffled sob, burying his face in his hands. He was ashamed and proud and confused. This sexist, stupid, ego-driven tradition had been destroyed but...but so had his family. He and condemned them to an uncertain fate, be it good or bad, he didn't know.It was 2:43 in the morning.John Laurens was ready to die."After he is kicked out of his house after coming out to his father, John faces an uncertain fate...until he meets a boy on the beach who soon becomes the he closest thing to family he has. Things begin to change as college starts and feelings begin to develop.Hercules is in love with the beautiful French person who he met a few years ago and is struggling with unrequited love and the realization that he can never have what he wants. When Lafayette begins to have feeling for a certain Carribean immigrant, Hercules doesn't know what to do.Thomas is the son of a wealthy Republican Senator and he's bisexual. That wouldn't go over well with his father and he hides behind walls of sarcasm and thorns until a boy begins to break those walls down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay I don't know what I'm doing  
> Please love me

If you walked down to the beach at exactly 12:30 at night, you could see the stars spilling over the soft, dark ocean. You could see the distant shadows of hills and the homes on top of them to the right and a dark, old, quiet forest to the left. And if you were quiet and still long enough, you could hear the soft hissing wind through driftwood and long grass growing on either side of a slender stone path that led down to the water, stone slowly being overtaken by mosses and sand until it was completely submerged in them.

The beach should be clear of people, of distractions. No children running by, or dogs chasing waves. No girls in bikinis doing cartwheels on the wet sand and boys shoving each other and gawking at said girls. No, at 12:30 at night it was silent and it was just you and your thoughts; either a blessing or a nightmare, and some nights, it was a little bit of both.

Some nights, maybe you danced and ran and sang until you couldn't keep your eyes open and you'd sleep under the curving driftwood twenty feet in from the ocean under an old blanket or some nights, you'd sit at the edge of the water, suffocating in silence for hours and hours, until early morning sunlight cut through the sky.

But tonight, you came here to die.

John Laurens was privileged as he could ever want to be. He had a wealthy father and two darling little sisters whom he loved with all his heart. He lived in a house that practically screamed 'money'. Of course, he never took things for granted, he worked at a cafe during the summer and babysat for free year round. He was an activist who attended all marches and clubs from Women's Rights to Climate Protection. He preached equality and choice, standing up for kids with mental disabilities and fighting literally anyone who discriminated based on racial, biological, physical, religious or sexual differences.

Being from the South, John faced many of his earlier friends and family turning their backs to him when he'd arrive back in South Carolina with his Pride and Black Lives Matter pins and flags draped over his luggage. Of course they didn't approve. Why would they? He wasn't white, was an atheist, gay, and loud mouthed liberal talking about how women deserve to make decisions on their bodies, how marriage is a fundamental right, and refugees and Muslims were valid humans who deserve to be here.

John was stupid by no means, of course with a wealthy senator father, how could he be? Henry Laurens made sure his son's studies were top priority, placing them above physical and mental health and social activity, even above finding a girlfriend. Ha. Henry had always stressed that John must catch himself a pretty girl from an influential family. His exact words from the hotel the Laurens Family had been staying at, being, "you are a Laurens, Jack. You have to find yourself a good one to keep up our reputation. You don't have to like her, she doesn't even need to like you. You simply must keep a pretty one at your side." John had told him not to talk about women like that and proceeded to tell his father that he was gay.

Maybe it wasn't the best choice. Maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do. But, spur of the moment, it had felt right. John had known for years that his father wouldn't be okay with his sexual orientation but, relationship with his father be damned, John wanted him to know who he was. So he had stood up straight and tall and said, eyes locked to his father's, "I'm not going to get a girl anyways...because I'm gay."

His sister, Martha, had known for years that he was gay but that didn't stop her from burying her face in her hands sighing. His littlest sister, Mary, had walked out of the room. His father had dismissed Martha and sat down across from John, silent and deadly as a viper waiting to strike.

"So," he had begun.

"So," John had responded, heart speeding with adrenaline and worry. What if he had done the wrong thing? Now was not the time to be second guessing himself.

Henry had nodded. "I know. I've known for years now."

"And?"

"I can't support it, son. You understand, don't you? Already with your..." he gestured vaguely. "Your views on certain subjects. People are beginning to talk. It's destroying our family name, our legacy." Henry stood up, and he was not a big man by any standards, being perhaps 5'6 and slightly round, but looking down at his son, John felt a touch of fear and anxiety in his chest. "From this moment onward, my house back in the South is not your home. You are a guest there. You pay for your own things, your own education, clothing, and food. You forfeit the right to your bed, you forfeit the place in that house. Don't mess this up, Jack, and when you've gotten over this terrible affliction, you'll be welcome back with open arms."

John nodded, words sticking in his throat. _I'm_ _not_ _sick_. _I'm not_ _a_ _stranger, I'm your son_! "Yes, dad," he managed.

"I am not your father," Henry hissed. "You are not my son. Leave."

John had left, grabbed a coat and his shoes and walked out, leaving the hotel and walking in the direction of his flat. His family had come to visit before college started but, turns out, it did not go as planned. Sighing, he changed course, heading instead down to the beach.

It was strange. Before, this path lead to nothing but hours of peaceful and sometimes violent introspective and retrospective thoughts. Now, it seemed that the waves, violent in the strong wind, echoed his heart and the web of white noise thoughts spinning in his head. Through the numbness of shock and the pain of his father's abandonment, John saw only one way to fix all of this.  
If he was dead, his father couldn't disown him, he couldn't stain the Laurens name. He, at best, would simply be erased from the Narrative, the vast empty pages of life and written over. His memory would fade. Perhaps his father wouldn't be ashamed of him anymore.

So, instead of all those nights before this, full of singing and running and contemplating the world around him, John Laurens came to the beach to die.

When you went to the beach at night 2:25 in the morning, it was because you were desperate. It was because the flask hidden in your coat wasn't quite enough to drown out everything you were feeling. It was because you had screwed up so badly, it couldn't be undone, because you broke the unfixable. It was because you, with all your irrelevant ideas and actions and mind, broke something that was part of the bigger picture, the age old tradition to keep your family respectable. It was when you soiled the sheets that people years later than you would use.  
And John was the son. In his dear, old fashioned family that meant he needed to step up, surpass his father in a political career. His father had no other sons and he was the oldest and the wittiest and the world was harsh on people like them, respectable, old families. It had been up to John to preserve that respect and that long held tradition and he had blew it. He was the end, he was burning the Laurens family crest to ashes and stomping on it.

John let out a muffled sob, burying his face in his hands. He was ashamed and proud and confused. This sexist, stupid, ego-driven tradition had been destroyed but...but so had his family. He and condemned them to an uncertain fate, be it good or bad, he didn't know.

It was 2:43 in the morning.

John Laurens was ready to die.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I don't know what I'm doing.

In the insane genius of the human mind, Alexander Hamilton would never understand how he got to where he was in life. He had tried to rationalize how, of all people, it had been him. The now orphaned son of an unmarried couple in the Caribbean whose home had been destroyed by a hurricane had ended up here in America of all places. Of course, he would chalk it down to his mind, thus boosting his own ego in the process but, by any means, it was a miracle of miracles.

Alexander prided himself on his mind above all else- not that there was much else. He was moderately good-looking, brown skin and large, dark eyes, dark hair, but he was also loud and outspoken, violent and abrasive in debates and arguments. He was short, 5'7 perhaps and very slightly built, "almost bird-like" to quote his former foster mother.

Oh, that dear woman who had offered to take him in for a short amount of time until he could afford a way to get to college. Of course, being the overachiever he was, Alexander had gotten a full-ride to a very prestigious, good school to study law. His dream was to be a lawyer, and he was good at it. Sure, he talked too much, he was abrasive, but he knew where his moral grounds were and he knew how to work the system. His views were simple: every human deserves their constitutional rights, no human was lesser than, illegal, or invalid.

After extensive research, Alex picked this a college known for its fantastic system and faculty. Of course, he needed to find a place to live, preferably not on campus. As luck would have it, Alexander had a little place to himself, curtesy of a friend of his late family who had moved to America years before. The little house overlooking the beach. It was beautiful, undeniably so, but it had a nauseating sense of deja vu lingering like a ghost around it. He didn't know why he didn't move, when every day passed expectant of a hurricane. Perhaps he had gotten attached to the place, perhaps to the view, or perhaps the boy who walked the shore every day at exactly 12:30 at night for the past several months.

The boy must have been been around the same age as Alex was, or at least in the moonlight he looked it; tall and slender with curly hair usually tied back. Sometimes he would run and dance along the beach, ensnaring Alex in the way he moved, every movement he made was a bit closer to Heaven. They were graceful, liquid, otherworldly. The boy was something else, it seemed, when he danced in the moonlight at the waters edge, the tide sparkling around his bare feet. Sometimes the boy who sit there, on wet sand, for hours on end, staring off into the distance, never so much as moving a muscle when his hair would blow in his face or the icy water lapped at his feet.

Day after day, Alexander would watch him, longing to meet him but not wanting to risk freaking the guy out so much that he never came back. He reasoned that it would be better to stay hidden in the shadows, silently writing down every detail of his movements and storing the files in his brain. _Fluid as the water he dances on... draped in silvery light..._ Alex had gotten so used to seeing him there, it came as a shock when, at 12:30, he looked out the window and saw the beach empty. There was no slender figure anywhere to be seen and Alex wasn't sure of what to make of it. His concern was irrational, he reminded himself. He didn't even know this boy, didn't know what his thoughts on any important topic was, didn't even know his name. Hell, the boy probably didn't even know Alex existed- much less watched him at night, which sounded more than a little creepy.

Alex sighed and turned back to his computer, where he was currently writing a paper for college- yes, he knew it hadn't started yet but he liked to be ahead of the game. He sighed again, taking a swig of the coffee he had made some hours ago and forgotten about. Alex cracked his stiff fingers and began typing again, unconsciously glancing out the window every few minutes to see if the boy had shown up.

By 2:20 in the morning, Alexander was (very) irrationally worried. _Maybe_ , he tried to convince himself, _he had a long day and went to sleep- like you should._ In some strange place caught between the mind and the heart, Alex knew that wasn't what had happened. _Maybe_ , piped up that stupid little voice, _something went wrong and he's hurt or lost or dying_. Alex pushed the voice down. It wasn't his business. The fact he was even thinking about the boy was weird enough but speculating what was happening in the stranger's life? _Why are you worried? You don't even know him._

Alex sighed, putting his head in his hands. "Shut up," he told himself. "Fuck off." He glanced out the window, a halfhearted hope that the boy would be there earning the better of him. And... And there he was, bathed in moonlight and stardust, standing at the ocean's edge. But something was different, off about him. He was hunched, as if in pain and shaking so badly even Alex could tell from where his place was. He knew that stance, the look of defeat and earth shattering pain. God, Alex had looked like that once. It was the stance of a person utterly ready to die.

Curiosity and concern got the better of Alex and he grabbed his coat and shoes, slipping them on and leaving the comfort of his little flat in exchange for the cold night air, thick with salt and fish. He froze as the door slammed behind him, cursing himself for not taking more care to be quiet. The boy didn't seem to notice.

He quietly made his way down the grassy slope onto the soft sand as the boy dropped to his knees, breathing jerkily and shaking furiously with unrestrained sobs. Alex's heart clenched as moonlight revealed the lines of a soft, handsome face too pained for its years, and _my God, he is gorgeous_...Alex coughed softly, making himself heard.

The boy looked up, tear tracks gleaming silver. He registered the small figure standing in front of him and staggered to his feet, backing away in alarm and panic. "What-?" His words had a soft southern glow to them, shining through the grief and panic.

"Hey," Alex held up his hands, caught off guard. "It's okay. I'm...I'm Alexander. Hamilton. Alexander Hamilton. I was worried...I saw you from my window and I just..." He trailed off, unsure of what to say for the first time in several years.

"Why?" the boy snapped, sadness turning to anger.

"Why?" Alex repeated, unsure of the question. "Why was I worried? Why did I see you? Why did I come out here?"

The boy waved his hand, shoulders tense and obviously ready to either defend himself or bolt.

"All of the above."

"You seemed upset," Alex started, watching the boy size him up, "and it's nearly three in the morning. You're out late, something must be wrong. Two, I saw you cause my flat has a perfect view of the beach and I happened to glance out the window." A lie but so he told it. "Three, something was wrong. I've seen that stance on people before and I was worried you'd do something stupid."

"I'm a stranger," the boy said slowly, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders.

"And I'm Alexander Hamilton. I'm too nosy for my own good. What's your name?"

The boy sighed and sat down heavily, wiping his eyes. "John."

"Well, that's specific," Alex stated sarcastically. "John what?"

John shrugged. "Not sure right now."

Alex looked at him for a long moment, confused. "Family problems?" he reasoned. John glared at him so furiously, Alexander felt a tinge of worry for himself. Then the boy collapsed and hunched forward, burying his face in his hands and starting, again, to sob.

Alex sat down beside him, resisting the urge to lay a hand on his shoulder. Together, in silence, one boy watched the waves sprinkled in moonlight and contrasting darkness, and one boy sobbed softly into his hands, sitting on the damp sand next to a stranger at 3:05 in the morning.


	3. Chapter 3

John didn't think anyone would see him that night. He knew that he was always at risk of being seen but it never bothered him. This time around, any reasonable person would be asleep. There would be no witnesses this time, no witness to recount the story of how John Laurens came here to die.

Of course, he didn't count on Alexander Hamilton. While he was sobbing, helpless and exhausted on the beach, the boy had appeared, seemingly out of moonlight. He had been worried about John. It was a most peculiar thing, that those dark eyes cut through him so easily, broke him down and pieced him back together. 

It was new to John, frightening, that someone could read someone so easily, and even now as they sat together in silence, something about Alexander Hamilton intrigued him. He glanced quickly over at the boy, drying his eyes on his sleeves. "You shouldn't be out so late," he said slowly, voice still thick from tears.  
Alexander spared him hardly a glance. "I know. Neither should you."

"I needed to be."

This time, Alexander turned to face him. His dark hair blew gently in the eternal ocean breeze. "Like I said, I was worried."  
"Like I said," John answered, heart quickening, "I'm a stranger."

Alexander scooter closer, locking eyes with John and sending a shiver down his spine. "Your name is John, you are having family problems. Your accent says southern so I can assume it's a political disagreement as you have a pride pin on your jacket and the south is pretty red." His eyes snaked down to said jacket, grinning a little. "Your father, I can assume, is quite wealthy from the brand of your clothes. Maybe he disowned you..." He trailed off, eyes widening. "Oh."

John moved back, a little frightened. "What? How...how did you know that?"

Alex chuckled, an oddly nice sound. "I observe," he said gently, "with my eyes. And ears. Among other things."

John glanced down, the slight smile fading from his face. "I told him a was gay."

"And are you?" Alex asked with a raised eyebrow, careful to keep his tone light and calm. He had suspected.

"Yes. Asexual, too." John didn't know why he was telling this...this stranger all these things but it felt right.

"Cool," Alex said.

John glanced up in surprise. "Cool?"

"Why wouldn't it be? I'm bisexual, by the way." Alexander's smile could have lit up the sky.

"Wow," John said softly. "Wow...I never met someone who was open about their sexual orientation before."

Alex shook his head, whistling. "How long were you living in the South?"

John glanced down again before sheepishly replying, "all my life, up until a few months ago."

"Really?" Alex asked softly. "Man, I'm sorry. Well, here it doesn't matter how you take it or how you identify so..."

John nodded, pushing back tears. "Laurens," he said softly.

"What?"

"John Laurens."

"Oh." Alex pondered this for a moment. It was a beautiful name, if not a little familiar. "The senator's son?"

John nodded, turning away. He hated the branding. "That's me."

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but your dad's a dick."

"I know." John sighed. "It's just...I still care. I can't help but care."

Alex nodded, taking the opportunity to scoot a little closer. They were inches apart. "Yeah. I...I don't get it but, you know, I can see it."

"What about your parents, Alexander?" John asked, looking over at him. "You know a lot about me but I don't know anything about you."

Alex shrugged, not at all hesitant to talk about his past. It wasn't in his nature to hold his tongue. "I don't have any. My father left, my mother died, I grew up buck wild."

John didn't know how to respond, his mouth was dry and his voice was barren of any words. How could Alexander so causally say that? He knew the pain of loosing a parent- let alone two- was terrible. "Oh...I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

"Where were you born, then?"  
"West Indies and raised in St. Croix in teh Carribean." Alex fiddled with a stick he had picked up.

"Wow, really? Then...why are you here?"

Alex sighed, seemingly lost to the world for a moment. "There was a hurricane. My future started to drip away with any hope of getting back my old life. I wrote a letter...a poem almost that got published. The people of my town raised enough for me to book passage on a ship that was New York bound. Turns out, NYC was too expensive and," he gestured around, "here I am."

Suddenly, all of John's problems seemed irrelevant and small compared to what this boy, probably not much older than he was, had gone through. "I'm sorry," he said softly, risking a gentle hand on Alex's shoulder. "Wow. Compared to all that shit, my situation isn't that bad."

Alex grinned up at him through, dark lashes. "No. It's fine. We all have our own levels on pain. I'm just used to things happening but, if this is a first for you, it might be the equivalent to someone chopping an arm off."

John laughed softly, feeling a blush coloring his cheeks. "My mother died when I was seven," he admitted softly. "This isn't the first thing."

Alex touched his hand softly. "I'm sorry."

"It happened over ten years ago, its fine now. But-" suddenly he rocketed up, eyes wide with panic. "Oh shit!"

Alex was up in a second. "What? What is it?"

"My dad is cutting off my money. I'm on my own and- shit oh fuck" John fell forward, breathing heavily. He felt Alexander grasp his shoulders.

"Talk to me," he said calmly.

"I don't have any money," John whispered. "That's the problem. I was supposed to pay rent soon but I can't. Fuck."

"Hey," Alex soothed, and before he knew what he was doing, before he even had time to think it through, he said, "you can stay with me."

John looked up at him and, _Jesus, this boy is beautiful_ struck him again. "Really? You'd do that?" His voice wavered, his eyes disbelieving.

"I know someone who's letting me stay until college for free. It's fine, don't worry."

John gave a watery chuckle. "You hardly know me."

He had a good point, Alex realized, but the offer had been made. "Doesn't matter. I like to believe there is a little good left in the world. You just have to be cool with me pacing and arguing with myself 24/7 and writing all night."

John smiled softly. His heart was still pounding from panic but he took a deep breath, calming himself. "I'm cool with that. I paint, actually, so I'm usually up late too."

"Oh nice, you any good?"

John glanced down. "I'm decent," he mumbled. A moment of silence in which Alex debated pushing the subject, then, "I won a fair once. My dad was always mad that I showed more of an interest in art than sports."

"You won a fair?" Alex exclaimed, feeling bad for the boy. "That's incredible! Screw what your dad says, he's an ass."

John chuckled, then sobered up. "Yeah. The only reason he let me continue is beca- because my mom painted."

"Oh. Well, bring your stuff tomorrow. I can help you move it," Alex offered. "You should stay here tonight. It's...3:40am. You don't want to be walking alone."

John looked taken aback for a moment, as if he hadn't expected the boy to be so kind to him. "If it's not too much trouble."

"Not at all." Alex stood, offering a hand to John. When he hesitantly took it, a little rush of electricity sped down his spine. "Come on."

Together, they walked slowly back to the little house. It was 3:45 in the morning and everything was glowing in the soft blue moonlight. The ocean was soft and calm and the long grass was swaying gently in the breeze. Everything was caught under a spell of silence, as if nothing dared break the thick sheet of warmth and hope that was bundled around John. He glanced at the boy walking beside him, noticing, not for the first time, the delicate planes of his face. His cheekbones, highlighted by the moonlight and hollowed by shadow. His intelligent eyes and small, light frame that seemed too small a cage for such a spirited person. His lashes cast long shadows on his cheeks, hanging over his eyes like gossamer. He glanced away.

It was 3:45 in the morning and the previous events of the day sere catching up with him. John yawned and grinned as Alex glanced over at him, sweeping stray hair behind his ear. There was sand on the bridge of his nose.

It was 3:47 in the morning and John, for the first time in a long time, felt truly safe as he entered the cozy little house, taking in the papers stacked on every available surface and the giant pride flag hanging on an otherwise bare wall. It was pink, blue, and purple, the trademark of bisexuality. There were Black Lives Matter magnets on the small fridge and one reading " _Say It Loud, Say It Clear, Immigrants Are Welcome Here._ " John smiled to himself, finding himself falling in love with the place already.

"The spare bedroom is just across from my room," Alex said, interrupting the tirade of thoughts going through John's head. "It's got blankets and pillows and everything. If you need anything else, just tell me. I've got food, if you want." He opened the fridge then closed it, pulling a face. "Okay never mind. I don't know how old that stuff is."

John followed Alex to his room, glancing around he saw that it was surprisingly neat. There was a bookshelf full of biographies and the works of Shakespeare. A little lamp sat on the bedside table alongside a dresser with a large mirror behind it. John felt oddly emotional looking at it. He had never imagined a stranger being this kind to him, kinder than his father ever had been. 

"You like?" Alex asked from the doorway. "It's not much. I don't have a lot of money, but I manage." John saw that he was nervous, as if waiting for criticism. It angered him that someone must have repeatedly shamed Alex for what he had or lack thereof for him to behave like this.

"It's amazing," John breathed. "Thank you so much."

Alex relaxed. "It's not much. I'm sure you're used to better, seeing as your father is who he is..."

"No," John said earnestly. "This is so much better."

"Really?"

"Really."

Alex laughed, running a hand through his hair. "Try and sleep. We can move you in in the morning. I'll pick up breakfast." He turned to leave when John's response stopped him in his tracks.

"Alex, I mean it. Thank you so much."

Alex felt his cheeks coloring. He glanced over his shoulder, smiling.

"Like I said, I like to believe there's a little good in the world."

He then proceeded to walk to his own room, not bothering to change, and slid under his covers. He lay there for a half hour, pondering the days- nights- events and most certainly not thinking about John Laurens' freckles. 

Or the contours of his face in the moonlight.

Or the way he spoke with a soft southern drawl.

But most certainly _not_ his freckles or how it would feel to wake up next to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have rather liberal views that I will continue to express throughout the story. Sorry if that bothers you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter contains child abuse nearer to the end

When John Laurens woke, he had a bit of a heart attack. First off, he wasn't in his apartment, wasn't in his bed, and couldn't remember having a drunken hookup last night. Second, _fuck...Alexander..._ memories of what had happened hours previously flooded him. "Ah," he breathed. What had he been thinking to agree to move in with him? He barely knew the boy. He could be a murderer or a druggie for all John knew, but there was something about him. Something calming and unique. Something that inexplicably drew John to him.

Groaning as light hit his face, he turned and glanced at his phone. 9:40. God knows how long it had been since he'd slept that long undisturbed by nightmares. 

Oh, the nightmares. The nightmares were something else entirely, something terrifying. They had started seven years ago, striking randomly. Sometimes he was locked in a house and there was something moving behind walls and he sprinted down the corridors, a voice screaming 'don't look back' and a faint sobbing from behind closed doors. Sometimes it was just a dark room. He'd sit there for what seemed like days before he'd start hearing a little girl singing softly in the corner. Then a light would flicker on and she's be hanging by her neck from the ceiling. He didn't need to think about that right now, now while everything seemed to be sorting itself out: John shivered and pushed himself out of bed, neck cracking as he did so

Walking into the kitchen, he wasn't surprised to see Alex sitting at his computer, typing as if his life depended on it, remembering the boy's words the previous night. "Hey," John murmured, making himself known. Alex jumped, quickly shutting the computer.

"Hey," he smiled, trying to cover the awkwardness of a moment ago. "Sleep well?" His heart skipped a beat as he took in John, hair undone and messily pushed back from his face. His shirt was pulled up, revealing a sliver of the skin of his stomach.

"Yeah," John said, brushing back his hair into a ponytail. "Thank you so much."

"No problem," Alex answered. "Leave it down." John paused, looking at him in confusion. "Your hair. It's cute down." _Why_ _did_ _I_ _say_ _it_ _like_ _that?_

John just grinned and pulled it down again. "Thanks. What's for breakfast?" He cleared his throat, realizing the privilege to his words. "I can cook."

"Oh," Alex muttered, realizing how little he had. "Shit. I didn't get any food."

John laughed, a soft, pleasing sound. "What do you have in your fridge?" He walked over, hesitating for a moment before asking, "is it safe?"

"To an extent," answered Alex, only half joking.

John wrinkled his nose before pulling open the door. "Jesus, Alex!" he exclaimed. "Do you even eat?"

Alex glanced down at his feet. "When I remember to. I'm usually busy all day."

"Doing what?"   
Alex shrugged. "Writing. Walking around. Doing nothing."

John sighed. "I'm gonna fix that. How do you sustain yourself?"

"With spite, pettiness, and coffee."

John grinned, his freckles dancing across his face. "I can see. You have eggs and milk and some cheese so there's that."

Three first degree burns and fourteen minutes later, John set down two plates of slightly underdone scrambled eggs. "Not a great cook," he reminded before taking a bite. He shrugged, pleased at the burst of flavor and impressed that he hadn't caught the house on fire his first day staying there.

Alex grinned and took a bite. "'S not bad," he said. "Could be better."

John laughed. "If you had any food it would have been better. When was the last time you had a full meal?"

Alex furrowed his brow, trying to remember. "Two days," he answered uncertainly. "Maybe... but I do eat," he added, seeing John's raised eyebrows.

"Okay," John responded, running a hand through his hair. "So I've just moved in with a crazy writer guy who doesn't know how to properly care for himself...okay."

Alex pointed an accusing fork at him. "You agreed to move in with the crazy writer guy, less than a day after meeting him."

"Touché," John acknowledged, "but you offered to let a guy you met on the beach less than an hour beforehand move into your house."

"You still agreed to it."

The next few minutes passed with little arguments between bites and a quickly blooming friendship, taking turns insulting politics and people. After an exclamation from Alex that verged on violent, John offered to wash the dishes.  
Alex had insisted that he could wash them before promptly realizing he had no soap.

"Yeah," he grinned, embarrassed. "I think I need to go shopping."

"Thank you, Mr. Obvious," John joked. It felt good to be this carefree and relaxed. He hadn't been like this in a long time. He couldn't even remember a time.

Alex turned around, looking insulted. "That's Secretary  Obvious, to you."

"Oh, my apologies."

Alex threw a dish towel at him.

Maybe a half hour later, they were sitting on the old, stained couch in the living room, violently agreeing with each other on affirmations about politicians ("The fucktard supports conversion therapy! Hope he gets fucking electrocuted!"), and John was thinking, _this_ _is_ _what_ _it_ _feels_ _like_ _to_ _match_ _ideals_ _and wits with someone at your level, what the hell is the catch? He's letting me live with him, this feels like freedom_.

"Okay," Alex said, moving closer to John. "Twenty questions."

John looked puzzled. "Alright?" He hoped Alex couldn't sense his nervousness at being so close to him.

"Favorite color?"

John thought for a moment. "Blue. You?"

"Green. Favorite animal?"

"Turtle," John said without hesitation.

Alex looked taken aback. "Turtle?"

"Shut up," John laughed. "What about you?"

"Dogs. Any dogs. All dogs. Dogs."

They continued like that, leaning new things about each other. John preferred chocolate ice cream and Alex was hands down vanilla, little things like that.

"Okay," Alex breathed, eyes lowered. "Last question. Have you ever been in love?"

John hesitated, unsure of how to respond. "Once," he said, his eyes flicking down to Alex's face. "Or I thought I was."

"Tell me."

John's lips twitched into a sad smile. "I was fifteen. He was a senior and I was young and stupid and, god, you should have seen him."

Alex felt an odd twinge of jealously in his chest. Why did he feel this way? "Really?" he asked, suppressing the feeling.

John blushed, glancing down. "He was attractive and smart and funny. We were...not friends but acquaintances. His sister was my sister, Mary's, best friend. We talked. I had his number."

"What happened?" Alex asked, genuinely curious. John's face darkened.

"He got expelled for beating this kid within an inch of their life and screaming "fag" at them." John sighed and glanced up, adding, "it was a long time ago, back in the South," upon seeing the stricken look on Alex's face.

"Wow. Okay..." Alex said. "That's awful. Was the kid gay?"

John shrugged. "I don't know, but their pronouns were 'they' and 'them'." He glanced over, forcing a grin to lighten the mood. "Your turn."

"Never," Alex announced. "I've loved people before but I've never been in love."

John raised a disbelieving brow. "Never?"

Alex glanced away, out towards the beach. "Not yet," he murmured. When he looked back, John was fiddling with the loose threads of his shirt, profile soft and sharp. His lashes flickered low on his cheeks and he was biting his lip. _Not_ _yet_.

Later that day, they walked to the little store a block from the house. The sun was in the sky, cutting through grey clouds, the smell of the ocean was overpowering and the cries of gulls were the only sounds in the quiet little area. John sighed, pushing his hands into his pockets and looked over at Alex. The boy was wearing an oversized hoodie and jeans, eyes calm and face content.

"Wow," John remarked with a smirk. "This is the longest you haven't talked yet."

Alex looked over at him with a glare that quickly turned into a smile. "Shut up."

"Be nice."

"No."

"Rude." Suddenly John's face turned ashen and he grabbed Alex's hand, marching them into a random antique shop and standing behind a little display. The woman at the front watched them with concern.

"John?" Alex asked. "You alright?"

John nodded, eyes fixed in the door. "The man out there, he works for my father. I couldn't risk him recognizing me."

"Did your dad send him?" Alex asked, concerned. He didn't know a lot about John's relationship with his father but he did know it wasn't a good one.

John shrugged. "Not sure. Sorry," he added, embarrassed.

"It's fine," Alex assured him. "We'll wait here a moment and then we can leave."

John's ears were red with embarrassment. It was kind of adorable. "Sorry," he said again.

Alex sighed. "Don't bother."

Behind them, the grandfather clocked chimed twelve.

Two days later, John had gone back to his apartment to pack. He didn't know what he had expected but it was certainly not his father showing up five minutes into packing up his paints.

"Jack," Henry said carelessly.

"It's John," John snarled. Henry waved a dismissive hand.

"So," he said, "you weren't in the last two nights."

"Do you monitor everything I do?" John snapped, continuing to pack his canvases carefully in a large box.

Henry studied the room with a look of distaste. "Not everything."

"Why are you here?" 

Henry looked up, a wolfish smile on his lips. "I've come to propose something."

John stopped packing. "Be quick."

"One week. I found a one week camp for people like you, a camp that _fixes_ people like you. Go to it and you can live far away from me. I won't contact you except for social purposes and I'll feed you money until you can support yourself."

John felt the icy horror fill his system. "You want me to go to a conversion camp?" He choked on the last words.

Henry nodded.

John felt sick to his stomach that his father would ask such a thing if him. "No," he whispered hoarsely. "I will do so much for this family, I will get a career that will preserve our name but you cannot ask me to do this."

"Then you have no money, you have no home, and you don't have the Laurens name," Henry said calmly, disappointment evident in his eyes.

"You're wrong," John responded, matching tones. "I have a home, I know how to support myself, and the last name has no importance if the bearer is a man who would rather have a dead kid than a gay one."

Henry looked taken aback. "Watch your tone-"

"No!" John shouted. "You aren't my father, you don't deserve my sisters and you sure as Hell didn't deserve Mom! She-" He was cut off by a sharp stinging slap that landed on his cheek, sending him staggering back. Henry stood in front of him, a sharp and almost smug look on his face. "Oh," John snarled. "Hitting your child, of course. Thank you for reinforcing my point, I already had some shit to say but your actions speak a thousand words."

A blow to his stomach made his vision swim. "Don't!" Henry snarled. "You fucking faggot!"

John ignored the pain and the sharp cut of his words and positioned himself in a fighting stance. "Getting weak and loose in your old age, Henry? You used to be so much better than this."

"Don't speak to me like that!" Henry snarled, placing a blow so it landed on his lower cheek. He was a master at his craft. Hard enough to leave bruises, but not enough to cause damage. "You were a mistake."

"Heard that one before," John laughed through the pain. "You really are loosing it, aren't you?"

The knock upside his head made his vision flash black for a second. There was blood running down his face, from his mouth, his nose. "Honestly, if I could, I'd hit you back."

That was the problem. Henry Laurens wasn't a stupid man by any means. He had connections, knew how to destroy John's career and life without tainting himself. If John even laid a hand on him, his life would go down the drain. John had seen his father doing that before. It was just a case of money and debating, both of which his father was a master of. On top of everything, if John let his father walk out with all that rage bottled up inside him, his sisters or some poor person would pay the price. He had seen Henry hit Martha once before and had been just about ready to snap his neck.

A blow to the stomach, the chest, the head, before John stumbled to the ground. He fell backwards against the wall, refusing to give his father the satisfaction of whimpering. " _Fuck_ _off_ ," he whispered. "Leave me or hit me again but, I swear to God, you touch Martha or Mary, I will break every bone in your body." 

Before John knew what was happened, he was being pressed into the floor, his father's hands pressing on his windpipe, just hard brought to bruise. His head was aching, being bashed against the wall. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move. His vision was blurry, darkening. Oh God, Henry was going to kill him. Just before everything went dark, he released John and stalked out of the room.  
John rolled over, allowing himself to gasp for breath and spit out a mouthful of blood. It wasn't the worst beating he had ever received but it was among the top ten, he knew he'd have some nice bruises for tomorrow.

Forcing his eyes to focus, John latched onto coherent thought and pulled out his phone, shakily pressing Alex's contact- they had exchanged numbers earlier- and called him. It took less than three rings for him to answer.

_"Hey,"_ Alex said distractedly _. "You need help moving things?"_

John closed his eyes, taking in the sound of his friend's voice. "A-" He started coughing and turned away, trying to shield his mouth. "Alex...please..."

_"John? John! What happened? Do you need an ambulance? What is it?"_ The panic and desperation was oddly comforting.

"No...ambulance...room 27...key under ma-" He coughed again and saw blood. "Sorry...under mat..."

_"Okay,"_ Alex soothed, obviously desperately trying to stay calm.  _"Okay. Stay on with me. Stay awake for me, okay?"_

"Trying," John whispered. "Hurry." He knew the amount of blood wasn't good but he had had worse. You couldn't off John Laurens that easily.

It was 2:30 in the afternoon and John Laurens was barely holding on to consciousness.

_"I'm hurrying, John. Stay with me. Stay with me. I'll be there soon."_

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about medical stuff so nothing is acurate, sorry

Needless to say, when Alex had heard John talking, he had first been worried. John was slurring the words quite heavily which was concerning but when he heard the pain in his voice, Alex had been fucking terrified. If something had happened...but why did he feel this way?

Alex had hardly known him for three days yet they were drawn to each other like moths to a flame. He had thought everything would go smoothly. So why was he clutching his phone and running like his life depended on it, a quarter mile to the apartment where John lived, breathing desperately into the phone, "stay with me, okay? I'm almost there."

It was 2:37 in the afternoon, and Alexander Hamilton was terrified as he fumbled under the rug for the key, praying John was alright. He had gotten there as quickly as he could, given he didn't know exactly where the apartment was and had to ask several frenzied pedestrians.

It was 2:38 when Alex burst into the room. John was lying on the floor, half propped against the wall and obviously barely holding on to consciousness. His face was covered in blood that was also dripping down his neck, staining his shirt. For a moment all Alex could of was stare before he pulled himself together and dropped by John's side, gently shaking him. "Do you need me to call a hospital?" Alex whispered when John turned to look at him.

"No...had worse..."

"John, who did this?" Alex asked, carefully pulling him close. John coughed, attempting to cover his mouth with his hands. Alex gagged at the sight of blood on them.

John examined them with interest. "Okay," he noted shakily. "That...that hadn't....happened before."

Alex felt a growing sense of panic. "We've gotta get you up," he murmured. "Help me out, man."

He gently, took John under the arms and pulled him halfway up. John kicked himself the rest of the way and staggered towards his bed where he collapsed, unable to support himself longer.

"My....hands are...sh...shaking," John noted calmly as Alex shifted him so that he could pull the blankets up around the around the injured boy. "I think...I....m-might be...going into... s-shock."

"Shh," Alex soothed. "I know, I know." In truth, he didn't know. He was panicking and terrified and wanted to call an ambulance but he knew John wouldn't let him.

"I-" John started.

"John, who did this?" Alex cut off, asserting himself. John looked up at him, eyes sharp but unfocused.

"My dad," he mumbled. Alex's blood began to boil and, against his better judgment, took John's hand and stroked it soothingly. Henry Laurens would pay for this.

"This can't be legal," Alex whispered, trying hard to keep his voice in check. "This cannot be legal."

John smiled sadly through the pain. "My father's...a senator. Everything's....legal if....you pay...people, that's what....I've learned." Alex shook his head.

"No. I can...I can take him to court. You said this wasn't the first time? Don't you have any old scars or something?"

"No. He's not...stupid...Alex," John gritted out. Alex felt his blood boil again, knowing how much pain John must be in, knowing who had caused that pain.

All his life, Alex had wanted a family but he had never dreamed that this is how some were. He never thought that fathers would beat their children to the point of unconsciousness. Alex crossed the room, looking back at him. "I'll talk to the landlord," he said quietly. "Try and rest."

John looked at him in a panic that spoke one thousand words. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't leave....please..."

Unable to refuse, Alex sighed and went to sit down next to John, propping himself up on pillows. John relaxed, still looking immensely uncomfortable, and closed his eyes. It took him ten minutes to fall asleep- or loose consciousness. Alex wasn't sure but his heart was beating strong and clear and his breathing was pained but even. He didn't seem to be in any danger.

Alex stood up, careful not to jostle the bed or the boy, and crossed into the tiny bathroom, pulling out a small towel and wetting it. He hesitated only a second before carefully wiping at the blood on John's neck and face. He was slow, gentle, careful not to wake him.

What was this? Alex had never felt like this before. This tender, burning need to protect and care for a person. _Stop it_ , his mind told him. _This is ridiculous._

While he waited, Alex couldn't help but notice the box of canvases. He couldn't help but go and looked at a few and, god, they were beautiful. Alex didn't know much about paint or art in general but he did know these were absolutely superb. Careful brush strokes coloring rivers and mountains and a dark night sky. There were paintings of scenery mostly, from the most delicate flowers to Niagara Falls pouring thunderously into a pool of water.

Then, oh...Alex felt like he was intruding, like he had walked in on something more intimate than sex. This painting was of a women who bore such striking resemblance to John that she could only be his mother. The painting depicted a beautiful woman's head and shoulders. Her hair was curly and brown, her eyes a light, happy green, and her cheeks and bare shoulder covered in freckles. She was turned away from Alex so that her face was at a 3/4 viewpoint and she was wearing a loose, white shirt, her arms full of sunflowers. He flipped the painting over.

Eleanor Ball Laurens: 1963-2004.

She had died young.

Alex carefully packed the paintings back up, making sure they were exactly the same as when he had found them. As he was turning away, he noticed something that made bile rise in his throat.

A smear of blood on the wall, no doubt from John colliding with it. He turned away, making his way back to sit by John, checking his temperature and his forming bruises and cuts. John's face was pale, making the blood seem even brighter against almost grey skin. He had a swollen lip and black eye as well as bruises scattered above his neckline. Against the whiteness of his face, his freckles stood in sharp contrast. Alex tenderly wiped any new blood away and lay down, watching the rise and fall of John's chest.

Sure, it was weird, but Alex felt an odd protectiveness over the boy. He wanted to trace his freckles with his finger and memorize the plains of his face. He wanted to write songs and poems and essays centred around his hair and his nose and his movements. But it would content Alex just to lay there and watch every breath he drew, puzzling over these new feelings. John whimpered softly, drawing Alex out of his stupor.

"No..." John whispered. "No..." His face contorted in pain.

"Shhh," Alex whispered. "Shhh." He gently traced John's hand with his fingertips. Anger and hatred towards Henry Laurens burned brightly and unquenchable in his heart. He wanted to hurt the man, wanted to break him for all he'd done to John. Alex found himself wondering how many times this had happened before, and if anyone had ever been there. Probably not. "I'm here now," Alex murmured. "He won't ever touch you again." He settled down again, lying so that he could easily move to comfort the boy should the need arise. "I promise," he murmured.

It was 3:05 in the afternoon and Alex made a promise he would never break. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is a short chapter, I will be updating soon. Hope you enjoy!

When John woke up, his first instinct was safe. He was safe. His father wasn't here, he wasn't even in his father's house, but instead curled up in his apartment with...oh shit. He blinked, painfully moving his head to the side. Oh shit, he was right. He was in his apartment, curled up on his bed next to Alex who appeared to be asleep.

John thought about waking him but thought better of it, allowing himself to lay back and take in the boy next to him. Alex's hair was splayed out across his pillow, his face pressed into John's arm, and his face peaceful and relaxed. He looked...John didn't know how to describe it. He looked Godly and small at the same time, a puzzling enigma. It confused John why he felt such a connection with this boy he met only a day ago, it confused him at why Alex was so kind to him.

Alex muttered something and burrowed into John's arm, melting his heart. He opened one eye a sliver, glancing up at John. He sat up quickly, hair standing up on one side like a hedgehog. John laughed, immediately regretting it when his ribs gave a sharp shout of pain. He winced, almost doubling over, and Alex was holding him up within moments, letting him lean against him.

"How do you feel?" Alex asked softly, keeping a tight hold around John's shoulders.

John shrugged, the movement jolting him painfully. "I've had worse," he said quietly, unable to force his voice to go louder as every word felt like knives in his throat.

"That didn't answer my question," Alex pressed and John looked up at him, eyes wide and pained and, god, he was so close. Alex could count every one of his freckles and see every individual eyelash shrouding those eyes.

John glanced down, breaking the fragile web of connection between them. "It hurts," he whispered. "Not too badly, but what he said to me. Alex...I'm sorry, I shouldn't be- I don't have any right to impose my problems onto you."

"Don't worry about it," Alex soothed. "I didn't ask you to live with me for nothing."

"Why did you?" John asked softly, head falling on Alex's shoulder.  
Alex pondered this for a moment.

"I'm not sure," he answered honestly, "but I think- I think we had been in some similar situations."

"Elaborate," John said.

"I..." Alex shook his head. "It's stupid. But I don't regret it."

John turned slightly so that he was looking directly up at Alex. "Tell me."

Alex couldn't say no. "I saw you and there was something that made me think of myself some years ago. With the hurricane." He swallowed, shivering inwardly at the memory. "Something about how you carried yourself and I...I wanted to help. I can never repay the people of my town so I thought that maybe I could do something for someone who looked to be in the same situation I had been in." 

John sighed sadly and turned away again, pushing himself off of Alex and leaning back against the pillows. "I don't think I can thank you enough."

"Don't mention it."

John looked as if he might push himself up again so Alex placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "You're letting me live in your home," John said as loudly as he could, regretting it when his throat gave a shriek of pain. "You met me yesterday! I could be insane, I could be a murderer."

"Are you?" Alex asked, eyebrows raised.

John laughed hoarsely, the action burning his throat. "No."

"Then why are you bringing that up? You seem like an agreeable, good person."

"You only like me cause my political views are the same as yours," John accused playfully, his voice raspy.

"No," Alex exclaimed, faking offense despite the bit of truth to the statement. "I like you cause your views call for humans to be treated like humans and for women to be able to make choices about their own reproductive systems."

"Same difference," John laughed. He immediately sobered up. "Alex," he started quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I lied."

"About what?"

John turned away, refusing to look at Alex when he said the words. "I'm not...I'm not fine. This wasn't the worst beating I've ever gotten but...god, I thought he was going to kill me."

"What?"

Tears were starting to fall and John angrily wiped them away. "He had his hands around my throat. I couldn't breathe."

Alex's hands were gentle, soft as the ocean wind- a terrifying contrast to the harsh, murderous hands that belonged to Henry Laurens- as he pulled John towards him. He said nothing. There was nothing to say. Instead, he pulled John gently up against him and embraced the boy and he started sobbing into the Alex's shoulder. They stayed like that for a long moment before Alex started crying silently as well. John noticed but didn't comment outright, just kept hugging the smaller boy, making soothing noises. 

"I'm sorry," Alex whispered miserably. "I don't even know why I'm...I'm crying. You don't have to..."

"You did the same for me," John whispered back.

Alex gave a watery laugh, burying his face in John's shoulder. "Thanks."

John adjusted his position so that Alex was more comfortably in his arms. "Don't mention it," he whispered.

It was 3:30 in the afternoon, give or take a few minutes, and two boys, broken in different ways, found themselves starting to repair in the arms of the other.

 


	7. Chapter 7

They had slept there, in that little bed. Slept the day away, John crying out every few hours in a terrified whimper. It was then that Alex would reach towards him and wrap a hand around John's wrist, latching him to reality despite whatever horrors he was facing in his dreams. To John it was the best comfort that one could offer him. A reminder that, above all else, the comfort of a warm, gentle hand was what was real.

They didn't eat when they woke up, but finished packing. Alex did most of the lifting as John was worse for wear. He had quite a spectacular collection of bruises, he discovered. A black eye, a shiner on his cheekbone, several speckling his arms, and a dark pair of handprints wrapped around his throat. John had opted to keep his shirt on as to not see what must be a rainbow of colors underneath it.

The scarf had been Alex's idea. He hadn't allowed John to even think about walking the quarter mile home when even standing up made him wince. They had settled on a cab but the state John was in would surely raise a free questions so Alex had gently wrapped a white scarf around his neck, covering the bruises before they walked out to get in the car. John stumbled and, silently, Alex wrapped an arm around the taller boy's waist.

It was beautiful out, a bright, clear day. You could smell the ocean only a quarter mile away, filling the air with salt and fish. Alex tightened his arm as he remembered finding John on the beach and making a reckless decision that changed his life. "You good?" he murmured to the taller boy.

"Yeah," John insisted, despite the paleness of his face. Together, they slowly climbed into a cab, ignoring the alarmed eyes of the driver.

"I do not mean to probe," the driver began with a heavy accent, "but are you alright?"

Alex glanced up interestedly. _"Êtes-vous Français?"_ Are you French?

The driver's expertly lined eyes widened in the mirror. " _Oui! Es tu?_ " Yes! Are you?

" _Ma mère l'a parlé._ " My mom spoke it.

" _Je m’appelle Lafayette_." My name is Lafayette.

John furrowed his brow, thinking through the translations. As if sensing his internal struggle, Alex said, "his name is Lafayette."

"They," Lafayette corrected. "I do not mean to be rude, but my pronouns are they and them."

Alex's eyes widened. "Oh Christ, sorry!" He glanced over at John with a look of childish excitement at having met another member of the queer community. John was taken aback at how open people could be with their pronouns here. "I'm Alexander Hamilton. He/him."

John grinned over at Alex. "John Laurens, also he/him." He rasped the words through his bruised vocal cord.

Lafayette looked back at him in alarm. "Are you sure you're alright?" they asked again.

Alex spared him from having to answer with a quick, "it's a long story. There was a fight." John nodded at him gratefully.

"Do you have...I'm sorry, my English is not the best. How you say, medication?"

"Medication," Alex confirmed, bracing John as they made a sharp turn. "No."

Lafayette thumped their fist on the wheel. "You should have some. I will pay."

"I'm fine," John answered, the breathy rasp of his voice certainly not helping his case. He had had enough of strangers helping him.

"I insist," they answered. "I have more than enough money to last me through college, please. I do not like other people in pain."

Alex pondered this while John huffed and turned down their offer once again. "The name," Alex said, "Lafayette. It's old, isn't it? And grand. Nobility?"

They nodded sheepishly. "Oui. My full name is quite a mouthful. Marie‑Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette."

"Marquis?" John asked. "If you're a Marquis, why are you working as a taxi driver?"

Lafayette looked down. "Do not use the title, I hate it. Titles are for books, not people. And I don't work as one, I am simply covering for a friend. He is sick today."

"Ah."

"So," Alex asked, "what brings you to America if you had such a position of power in France?"  
They shrugged, tapping painted nails on the steering wheel. "I have always been fond of the American culture and thought I would...would educate myself. Obvious I speak poor English still."

"Are you here for college?" John asked.

"Oui. Majoring in American History and some law stuff. Minor in medicine."

"Oh, I'm studying law too," Alex said. "John?"

John shrugged. "I'm doing some stuff with law and medicine. Minor in art."

Alex raised his eyebrows. "Your family is demanding, aren't they?" He posed the question, carefully avoiding mention of Henry.

John seemed to catch on and nodded. "Quite. It's a stupid tradition for the son to show up the father." He shivered at thought of his father and unconsciously rubbed at his throat. By the time he realized what he was doing Lafayette had pulled the care over and was watching him steadily.

"What happened?" they asked softly. Alex moved closer to John, almost possessively.

John smiled weakly. "I had a bit of a fall out," he said, motioning for Alex to stay quiet.

"Did your father do that?"

John nodded. His throat was starting to hurt from the amount he had spoken. 

Lafayette breathed out a loud sigh. "I am sorry. Please, will you let me buy you medication?" Despite how it was framed, it obviously wasn't a question. Alex picked up on this and nodded.

"I don't know how we can thank you."

Lafayette smiled. "No need. You are queer, no?"

John looked at Alex in alarm who smiled easily. "Yeah. I'm bisexual, he's gay."

Lafayette nodded. "I am pansexual. It appears my parents were fine with my sexuality but, as it would seem, my pronouns are not tolerated. I am obligated to help my fellow queers."

"Christian family?" John asked. When they nodded, he added, "it's easy to tell with your name and all."

Lafayette laughed, maneuvering the car back into traffic. "My parents had me baptized like a Spaniard, with the names of every Saint."

They chatted for a little while, John mainly relaying on Alex to voice his thoughts as his throat was closing up. It was interesting, how Lafayette could coax an entire life story out of people with seemingly minimal effort. They were thoughtful and charming, kind. He hadn't even realized the car had stopped until Alex touched his arm gently.

"We're going in now," Alex murmured. "Stay here. We'll be back soon." John felt a squirm of fear at being left alone, so recently after the attack. Alex placed both hands on his shoulders. "It'll be fine. It's just for a few minutes, I promise."

John nodded, sighing as Lafayette called for Alex and he turned, spending one last second staring at John, scrutinizing him. Alex smiled and bounded off to Lafayette's side. The difference was almost comical. 

The Marquis de Lafayette was tall and regal, the contours of their face were elegant, spaced, and seeming carved to create the perfect face for a ruler. Their eyes were dark, looking through the human body straight into the soul. Those eyes were surrounded by a thick fan of lashes and impeccable eyeliner and glitter. Their skin was a flawless deep brown, their hair a mess of curls that gave them a very calm, laid back look. Then Alex. What more needed to be said?

While Lafayette was wearing boyfriend jeans and a pink shirt, Alex was clothed in a grey sweatshirt and old, ripped jeans. His hair looked like it hadn't been brushed- or washed- in several days and he had giant bags under his eyes. John smiled at the two of them, walking and talking, Alex making violent gestures that drew the eye of many pedestrians (not that they didn't stare at Lafayette either).

John settled back. It was 4:29 in the afternoon. The sun was still high overhead and the sky was blue. Through the slightly lowered window, John could hear gulls shrieking and smell the ocean. It was 4:30 in the afternoon and John was at peace. At peace to reflect on the last day, purposefully avoiding any thought of the earlier events.

It seemed something out of a storybook. John had met a boy on the beach, traded life stories, and then moved in with him. John didn't even know the boy, hadn't known what he was getting himself into but he had felt an unstoppable pull towards him. They had become quick friends. Already, they had comforted each other by holding them, Alex and rushed to John's side after he had been injured and taken it upon himself to care for him.

It was confusing, the annoyance that John felt at being crowded all the time, the protectiveness he felt over Alex, and the myriad of emotions stemming from his attack. Anger, fear, hate, worthlessness, exhaustion. A tap on the window made him jump.

"It's me," Alex said through the glass. "Unlock the door."

John obliged, flashing a smile of gratitude at Lafayette and scooting over to allow Alex to sit down next to him. "Thanks," he rasped.

Alex dropped a bottle of pills onto John's lap. "Your drugs," he said. "Laf offered to drive us back and help treat your bruises and cuts. They said they'd do it for free."

"Thank you," John accepted. He was prideful but his instinct for self preservation throughly trumped that.

Laf looked please and began to drive from the parking lot. "Where do you live?"

Alex quickly repeated the address and glanced worriedly at John. "Are you okay? You've been really quiet."

Jon gestured to his bruised throat. "Sore."

Alex shook his head. "Not what I meant."

John sighed. "I know. It's been...a stressful few days."

Alex resisted the urge to take his hand. "I know," he murmured. "Everything's fine now."

John smiled down at his lap before glancing up at Alexander, hoping his eyes conveyed his gratitude. The soft look on Alex's face informed him that they did.  
It was 4:40 when Lafayette pulled onto their road, stopping from of the small house and getting out of the cramped car. They breathed deeply for a moment. "It's a beautiful view."

"Yeah," Alex agreed, pulling open the door for John. The view was even more beautiful at night, when someone danced in the moonlight. He offered a hand and pulled him up, steadying him as Lafayette made their way over and offered an arm. John looked embarrassed at his incompetence.

"Don't worry," they said. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, needing help."

"Thank you," John gasped as his head began to spin. He leaned towards Laf for support and felt himself being steered towards the house. "I'm fine," he insisted.

"Say that when you can stand on your own," Alex muttered as he unlocked the door. John pushed away and forced his legs to move towards the couch despite how shaky they felt and how every movement hurt his ribs. _You've had worse,_ he reminded himself.

Lafayette stood in the threshold, admiring the decor of the large Pride flag hanging on the wall. They nodded their approval as Alex followed John in, shutting the door behind them. "It is a nice place," they commented.

"It's not mine," Alex said offhandedly. "A family is letting me stay while they're gone."

Lafayette shrugged. "It is still nice."

Once Alex got John settled down on the couch, Laf took over, immediately instructing him to remove his shirt. John looked like he was going to argue but thought better of it and removed first the scarf, ignoring Laf's gasp of horror. He quickly stripped off the dirty top and set it to the side.   
Under any other circumstances, Lafayette would have been positively delighted to have an attractive gay boy strip in front of him but John's chest was a myriad of bruises and dried blood.

Behind them, Alex gasped in shock. "You should have told me," he whispered softly, moving closer to John.

Laf winced as they examined the injuries. "You should have. These would have festered had you not checked on them soon." They gently prodded around his ribs, checking for breaks.

"How long will this take?" John shivered, the chill of the ocean wind creeping through walls and straight to his exposed skin.  
Lafayette glanced up and for a second their eyes met, dark chocolate meeting green, but there was nothing. No heat, to electricity like with Alex.

"Not long," Laf said, as if sensing that, glancing back at the bruises. "You want to take a shower."

John nodded. "I know the drill," he admitted. "I've just never had anyone other than my sisters to smuggle me medicine."

Next to him, Alex placed a warm hand over his. "He's never going to do this again."

John glanced at him gratefully. "Thank you."

Lafayette cleared their throat. "Are you two...together?" they asked, tapping painted nails on the floor.

Alex turned beet red. "No...we only met a few days ago."

John winced at the way he said 'no' without hesitation, so forcefully. "No," he said, calmly. "Like he said, he saw me and offered to let me stay with him- my father kicked me out."

Lafayette's eye softened. "I know how it is. I am sorry."

"Were you?"

They nodded. "One of the reasons I came to America. The Lafayette name means nothing among Americans. I can no longer deface it." John suppressed the urge to hug the kid, understanding every word.

"I'm sorry," Alex murmured.   
"Don't be. I am happier here than I ever was in France." Their face softened.

John snapped his fingers, trying to get their attention without speaking. "Hate to break the mood," he rasped, "but I actually coughed up some blood yesterday."

Alex looked horrified. How had he forgotten? Something could have been seriously wrong. "John..."

"Don't start." John shut down Alex before he started. "Not your fault."

Lafayette shrugged. "No signs of internal bleeding, and you can breathe fine, _non_?"

"Other than my throat being sore as fuck."

Lafayette smiled genially at Alex. "He's fine. It might just have been a cut inside the mouth. Was there a lot of blood?"

"No."

"Nothing to worry about. I would recommend keeping an eye on everything for a few days, however. Alexander, he is fine." Alex glanced away from John sheepishly.

"Here." Alex passed a slip of paper. "Our numbers, if you even want us to repay you."

Lafayette took the slip and pocketed it. "I do not charge for help," they said, standing. "But thank you. Be sure to bathe later, clean the cuts once and a while, take care." They made their way over to the door. "My friend will need me soon, he is not well."

"Anything we can do?" Alex offered.

" _Non_." Lafayette smiled back at them. "But you can call me. We will be at the same college, might be nice to have friends."

"I suppose," John said, shrugging his shirt carefully over his head. He missed the way, Alex's eyes tracked his movements, taking in his cuts and bruises and that old scar above his hipbone.

After they heard Lafayette drive away, Alex stood up, slapping his knees. "I'm gonna walk a block or two down. They have a store I we should probably eat at some point. Feel free to shower and whatever."

John nodded, wincing as he stood but shaking off Alex's hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry I don't have any money to offer."

"It's fine."

John sighed and gingerly rubbed his ribs. "I'll repay you someday," he promised.

Alex didn't respond, knowing there was nothing he could say without John blocking it. "Just-just take a shower, rest up."

John's eyes softened. "I will."

"Good." 

Alex gently, hesitantly, squeezed John's arm, as if he wasn't sure if that was allowed. A flurry of sparks shot through him. It was 5:00 and the sun was staining the sky pink and gold. John felt, for the first time in a long time, that he had a home


	8. Chapter 8

Lafayette set their bag down as they entered the apartment. They sighed, breathing in the scent of home, of the cramped space they shared with their best friend, Hercules Mulligan. "I'm home," they called.

"Hey!" came the reply. "I'm almost done."

Laf smiled and made their way up the stairs and into the living room where the tall boy sat, carefully hand stitching blue fabric. Lafayette shrugged off their jacket and wrapped their arms around Herc's neck, grinning over his shoulder. "You're welcome," they said pointedly.

"Thanks for covering for me," Herc grinned. "I'll be back on the job tomorrow. Anything interesting?"

"Actually," Laf began, sitting in the chair beside Hercules, "I picked up two guys. They- my Lord- one of them, Alex, spoke French!"

Herc smiled at how excited his friend was, knowing how much Lafayette missed being able to strike up a conversation in fluent French. "You get his number?" he teased, praying that they hadn't.

"Yeah." Herc's stomach dropped. "But I'd prefer to get to know him, surprisingly."

Herc chuckled. "Lovely, Laf. Why'd you get their numbers?"

Lafayette's face darkened.  
"John needed medical care. His father, he beat him for being gay. I offered to...how you say, check out his injuries." Laf glanced away, rubbing their arms.

Herc winced, setting his sewing aside to wrap an arm around his friend. "Your father isn't here," he murmured. "How bad?"

"Nothing broken. Tons of bruises, cuts, he's limping badly." Laf sighed and leaned into Herc. "I came to America to escape this...it's as if it's following me."

They shivered, falling into a pit of repressed memories. Their father screaming at them to get out while their mother tried desperately to calm him. They remembered their father's words clearly that night.

_"I tolerated your sexuality! I tolerated looking like a fool to my peers and even to my lessers. I will not tolerate your pathetic excuses to get attention!"_

"Lafayette," Herc whispered, hugging him closer. "It's okay."  
Laf whimpered into Herc's shoulder. "I can't-" they whispered. "I..."

"I know, I know. You're with me now, everything will work out." He stroked Lafayette's hair, resisting the urge to press a kiss to their temple. He had known Lafayette for four years now and he would never forget the day they met. He'd never forget the first time he saw their face.

_It was a storm. Of course it was, and how fitting for Lafayette to waltz into Hercules's life amidst thunder and lightning. It was approximately 11:45 at night and all Hercules wanted to do was catch the bus from his fashion studio where he studied to the little apartment where he lived. He hadn't expected there to be a kid curled up under the bench at the bus stop._

_Lafayette couldn't have been more than sixteen and spoke hardly a word of English but there was something about them, sitting small and alone under a bus stop while rain and wind lashed the feeble walls around them. Something about them drew Hercules, perhaps it was the way they dressed, or perhaps it was how small and scared they looked._

_"Are you alright?" he had asked.  
The kid looked at him, eyes wide and scared for a moment while their brain worked to understand the words. There was no doubt in Herc's mind that the kid was a foreigner. "I do not speak a lot of English," they managed through a thick accent._

_"French?"_

"Oui."

_Herc had taken a few years in school but the language was not familiar_. "Je ne parle pas beaucoup de français," _he said slowly. I don't speak a lot of French._

_The kid's face brightened exponentially_. "Je m'appelle Lafayette."

"Je m'appelle Hercules."

"Ç'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer." _It's a pleasure to meet you._

"Qu'est-ce qui t'amènes en Amérique ?"?" _What brings you to America?_

_Lafayette's face turned sad and they glanced away for a moment, wiping their eyes_. "Problèmes familiaux." _Family_ _troubles_. "Mon père n'est pas d'accord avec qui je suis." _My father doesn't agree with who I am._

_Herc cleared his throat awkwardly, limited French failing him_. "Je ne te comprends pas." _I can't understand you_.

_"My...my apologies," Lafayette said in English, drowning the words with a thick accent. "I speak little English."_

_Herc nodded, speaking slowly and clearly. "It's okay. I can teach you."_

_"You would...do that?"_

_Herc smiled, taking a chance to hold out his hand to shake. Lafayette's hand was warm and soft. Their nails were painted a matte red with gold dust on them. "Of course....I hope you don't mind me asking but, what are your pronouns?"_

_Lafayette furrowed their brow. "I do not understand what you said?"_

_Herc sighed and thought for a long moment_. "Quels sont vos pronoms?" _What are your pronouns?_

_"Oh!" Lafayette exclaimed. "They and them_. Merci d'avoir posé la question." _Thank you for asking_.

_Herc grinned, liking the kid's bright smile and personality. "No problem. Do you have somewhere to stay?"_

_"A...how you say, hotel?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_Lafayette cleared their throat, tapping their nails on their thigh. "It was rather a stupid thing to come here. I was...new to the culture."_

_"How are you liking it?"_

_Laf turned to face Herc. "It is incredible." They sighed. "It is not France but it is lovely."_

_Minutes later, the bus had come and Hercules had to get on, leaving Lafayette waiting for their Uber as rain thundered around them. Before he left, he handed Lafayette a slip of paper with his number written on it. "Just in case." It was 12:05 at night and Hercules Mulligan was l falling down a very deep, dark hole._

"Are you remembering?" Lafayette murmured from their place leaning on Hercules's shoulder.

Herc smiled down at them affectionately. "You were so young."

"And you were so kind to me," they said. "I would not have lasted long without you."

Herc nodded. "Then you called me and asked for English lessons," he chuckled. "You were a fast learner."

Laf sat up, brushing strands of their hair back. "I still have not learned it all."

"I remember when you fell asleep on my couch and I just let you sleep all night." Herc chuckled fondly at the memory.

"I remember you trying to teach me how to pronounce 'anarchy'. It took three days."  _I remember the day I realized I loved you_. "I remember the day we were grocery shopping at three in the morning because you wanted a baguette." _I'll never forget the moment._

"You almost killed me," Laf reflected.

"I did not," Herc shot indignantly. "You were the one who told me to let go of the cart in the first place."

"I didn't think I'd die!"

"You didn't die!"

"Technicalities!"

Herc sighed contently. "What were we saying? Oh yes, those boys. You didn't even attempt to chat one up?"

Laf hit his arm. "I was going to but they weren't my type or seemed the type for a one nighter."  
"That's never stopped you before."

Laf stared at him for a moment. "You jealous?"

Herc opened his mouth to respond, feeling his heart quicken under the scrutiny of the calm gaze. "I have standards, sorry," he shot back.

"Rude," Laf grumbled, shaking their head. "Get back to sewing, you ass. Who's the dress for again?"

"Eliza Schuyler. She wants to wear it at the concert."

They wiggled their flawless eyebrows. "Your crush?"

"I don't like her," Herc defended, "and I don't like her sisters either. Can you imagine? Angie would kill me if I was interested in Eliza or Pegs." _I don't like her because I love you._

"Sure," Laf said, standing and stretching. "I'm gonna make dinner, sound good?"

Herc nodded, picking up his sewing again. "You do that. What are we having?"

"Macaroni."

Herc groaned, frantically throwing a hand over his eyes. "Jefferson isn't coming over, is he? I'm half expecting him to pop up from behind the couch."

"Thomas isn't that bad," Laf defended. "He was one of my first friends- other than you."

Herc shook his head. "He's only like that with you, Laf. He's a complete ass to the rest of us."

Laf sighed. "I'll make something else." They pulled their hair out of the pony tail, fluffing it out. "What do you want?"

"Pizza."

"I'll call in. Extra large, half pepperoni, extra bread sticks?"

Herc grinned and tossed a sideways glance at his friend. "You know me too well." _So why can't you see how much I love you?_

"I should, I've lived with you, like, three years." Laf picked up their phone. "Is it weird that I have the pizza place saved as a contact?"

"Nah," Herc said, flipping through pages of his sketch book. "Hey, should I use gold or silver for the trim?"

"Silver. Now shut up, I'm calling."  
Herc glanced up, listening to Laf talking. They were so animated, so collected and calm at the same time. They were an original, a work destined for greatness. God, what had he ever done to deserve them?

It was 5:45 at night and Hercules felt a stab of sadness and affection for the person he would never stop loving but could never have.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All French is from google translate. I don't know if it correct but if you know a better translation please tell me and I will edit it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an action in this chapter that can be perceived as suicidal so keep that in mind if you are sensitive. Thanks!

It was 1:30 in the morning and Alexander was wide awake. From across the hall, he could hear John shifting in his bed, trying to find a position where his ribs didn't hurt. _God_ , John. Alex was so confused. He was confused at why he was so protective of the boy, why he was so attached to him after such a short time. Alex considered himself to be a very open person, he never hid his feelings, he never suppressed emotions, he didn't worry about people, so why was he so nervous about John?

The answer was in the way he moved, the way his eyes traveled. He reminded Alex of a hurricane. Right now, it was quiet. Right now, Alex was standing in the yellow sky, submerged in silence. Right now he was safe but in a week, a month, a year? Sooner or later, Alex wouldn't be in the eye anymore, but in the full force of the wind and rain. Sooner or later, he would be at the mercy of the most beautiful and nerve racking thing he had ever seen and all that would come of it would be ruin and death.

Alex shivered, the feeling of rain was pounding on his skin despite him being perfectly dry under a pile of blankets. He was not going to remember that night again, not going to remember watching the people of Nevis dying and their homes being demolished. He was not going to remember how he survived, how he didn't drown despite how much he wanted to. The fact that he was alive right now was a miracle. He pushed the thoughts away and turned over, sighing.

When he was seventeen, life had seemed impossible. He knew he was smart- smarter than the average person, and he knew he had no chance of doing anything stuck on that island. In a way, the hurricane as much of a blessing as it was a disaster. He had escaped that island but at the cost of watching people he loved drown all around him. His life had been a series of disasters so it was only natural to assume that John would be the next.

When Alex was twelve years old, his mother and him had fallen sick. They spent a while standing of Death's doorstep, too weak to continue. He had miraculously gotten better, but his mother had died. They had been in the same bed- she had been holding him- when she died. He would never forget the moment that he had realized she had left him, would never forget to hopelessness he had been filled with. He wondered if she would be proud of him.  
All of this was beside the point.

John was tempting, he was beautiful and kind and smart. But he was deeply troubled, he was unpredictable, unreadable, and that made Alex nervous. Maybe it wouldn't go wrong, maybe they could be...more... and everything would go smoothly, or maybe it would end in pain and misery and trauma.

Alex sighed again, deciding to leave the crisis he was currently having until morning. He rolled over, trying to get comfortable and miserably failing. His mind was too stuck on how it would feel to have John lying next to him to concentrate on sleep.

The next morning, John woke up to splitting pain in his side. Of course, this was how it went. No pain for a few nights, then bam! He winced, rolling out of bed and checking his phone. 9:34 in the morning and Alex was still asleep.

John yawned, glancing out the window at the beach in the morning light. Once he got his paints over here, he'd love to try and capture the essence of the water blending with the sand and the light reflecting off the waves.  
He'd have to go back to his apartment for the paints. He'd have to face the room where his father could have killed him, but he'd done it before. The Laurens mansion back in the South was full of memories of fists and blood and pain. John could do this, just as he'd done it the majority of his life. His phone buzzed.

Alex.Ham: Hey I'm out getting food I'll be back in 20

John™: okay what are you getting

Alex.Ham: doughnuts

Alex.Ham: that good?

John™: I want maple pls thx

Alex.Ham: holy shit

John™:....

Alex.Ham: they have ones that look like turtles but r chocolate

John™: I want ten

Alex.Ham: no u don't get ten I'll get two for u

John™: k I can live with that

Alex.Ham: u feeling better?

John™: sore but fine

Alex.Ham: need more drugs?

John™: I'm good thx tho

Alex.Ham: okay if ur sure I'm gonna get us food

John sighed and set the phone down. What had he done to deserve such an amazing friend? It was was a stroke of fortune that they had met, a stroke of fortune that changed both of their lives forever. John yawned and went out to the living room, trying to hide a wince as his hip bumped the doorframe.

"Oh fuck this," he muttered, rubbing the bruise on his side from when his father had punched him. He was so lucky to have Alex, to have met Lafayette. His luck, constantly sour, seemed to have taken a turn for the better recently. Lord knows how long that would last.

John sighed again, opening the living room window to gaze down at the beach below him. He hadn't gone down there in a couple of nights- since he'd moved in with Alex. He missed it, missed the water on his feet, the wind in his hair, and the starlight painting the world around him. He checked his watch. 10:20 in the morning.

As he looked around the little house, a strange sense of sadness filled him. He loved the place, loved that it was quiet and cozy and sat by the beach, but it wasn't home. A sick feeling pressed against his chest. He missed his apartment, while it wasn't much, it was home. A home he didn't want to go back to, couldn't shake the memories of Henry's hands around his neck and blood on his walls.

Against his will, and his ribs protesting, John stepped out the door, shrugging on a jacket. He slowly walked down the waters edge, feeling sand between his toes and the nip of icy wind. It felt familiar and calming, soothing in a strange way. He walked down farther, breathing in the clear morning air. The water was freezing on his feet and stung as he walked in, up to his calves, his knees. His thighs.

He kept walking, wondering how far he could before disappearing completely. He wondered how long it would take for someone to drown. He was up to his waist, the salt stinging the cuts his father had left. No. He shook his head. Everything would work out, he reminded. There was not need to think those thoughts, no need to put the ideas back in his head. He closed his eyes, softly signing the song his mother had thought him under his breath. He love to die with her words on his lips. _No_. John ran a hand through his hair, turning to step out of the water when he heard his name being called.

"John!" Alex came running towards him, coat half off and bags on his arm. He tossed the bags down on the sand and frantically ran into the water until it reached mid-calf. "What are you doing?" Worry and panic filled his face.

John blinked, as if dazed. "I..." his voice was small and raspy. "I..." He didn't know how to explain it. Instead, he looked down, slowly making his way over to Alex.

Alex sighed. "Come on," he said softly. "You don't have to say anything, it's fine." He was being sincere and John wanted nothing more that to hug the boy and thank him for his understanding. Gently, Alex took John's hand- sending a shiver of sparks down his spine- and lead him into the house. "Get changed, you can borrow some of my clothes. They won't fit right but that's fine. I'll be back in a second."

Alex walked back, picking up the bag and running a hand through his hair. He had been scared when he saw John in the water, he didn't know what to do or what was happening and he hated it. It was so easy to see what John had been thinking, what he considered. For some reason, the thought of loosing the boy sent a trill of grief and fear straight to his heart. It was 10:29 and Alex stood in the wind, under a grey sky and grappled with what he was feeling.

He didn't want to go back in right then, so he sat down in the sand and checked the food to see if it had gotten squished or if any cans had been dented. He groaned when he saw that one to the turtle doughnuts had smeared a little and attempted to fix it until it looked semi decent. His own were in rather bad shape. Whatever, they would still taste good.

Alex stood, brushing himself off and walking back to the house, not wanting to leave John alone for too long- especially after what he just saw. "Hey," he called. "You changed?"

"Yeah." John was sitting on the couch, staring at his hands. He was wearing Alex's sweatpants and a shirt that was too big for Alex but just big enough for John. Alex felt his heart melt. Alex sat next to him, setting the bag down on the coffee table and taking out the doughnuts. He wordlessly passed one to John who smiled over at him. "Thanks."

Alex stood, disappearing to his room for a few minutes. John sat internally panicking. What if Alex had snapped and wanted nothing more to do with him? What if wanted John to leave? It was neither of those, he realized, when Alex came back out with a grey blanket that he tucked around John's shoulders, and sat down.

They sat in silence, unsure of what to say for the longest minute in history. John picked at his doughnut while Alex slowly began to eat his. Finally, at 10:34, John set his aside and turned to look at Alex. "Alex," he started, "I am so, so sor-"

"Don't," Alex cut off. "Don't apologize to me. It's fine...no, it's not. But it's...understandable, I suppose."

John shook his head. "No. I'm sorry." He held up a hand when Alex opened his mouth. "Shut up. It's not okay, Alexander. You've been nothing but kind to me and I've just been some sort of deadweight. If you want, I can be gone by tonight."

Alex felt a shock to through his bones. "What?"

"What?"

Alex shook his head violently. "No! I don't want you gone, promise. I just want you to promise me that you won't ever do that again, alright?"

"Alright," John agreed, looking awkward and nervous.

Alex sighed, taking John's hand in his own again. "You scared me," he whispered. "God, you just scared me so much. I don't know what it was like for you living with Henry and your sisters and I don't know what he did or told you but your life is not your own anymore, you have people who care about you. Your life is as much theirs as it is yours."

John looked on the verge of tears. "Who?"

"Your sisters, me, perhaps even Lafayette if we ever see them again." Alex squeezed his hand. "I know it's hard, believe me." He laughed a little. "Honestly, I've been were you are right now, I've been ready to die before."

John shook his head, squeezing his hand back. "I don't want to...die. I just...."

  
"I know, I know. I've been there. Everything will be fine."  
"We don't know that. If my father..."

Alex furrowed his brow. "Is this about him?"

John swallowed, eyes darting back and forth as if he expected Henry to burst through the door. "Ever since I was eight."

Alex wanted to just wrap his arms around John, to comfort him. "I'm sorry. But he won't ever touch you again- no one will."

John smiled wanly. "Thanks."

"Hey, what were you singing out there?"

John appreciated the subject change and replied, "my mom taught me it. A drinking song from the Revolution."

Alex cleared his throat. "Can you...can you sing it?"

"I'm not great."

"I don't care."

John cracked a smile, and it looked like sun peering out from behind clouds. " _I may not live to see our glory_ ," he started is a soft, clear voice. " _But I will gladly join the fight, and when your children tell our story, they'll tell the story of tonight. Raise a glass to freedom, something they can never take away, no matter what they tell you. Raise a glass to the four of us, tomorrow there'll be more of us, telling the story of tonight_."

Alex closed his eyes, letting the last note hang in the air for a long moment. "Wow," he said softly. "You have an amazing voice."

John blushed, glancing away. "Not really. And I suppose, given the circumstances, it should be 'the two of us'."

"Just accept the compliment, you ass."

John snorted, picking up his turtle doughnut and taking a large bite. "This is good," he commented.

Alex laughed and, for a moment, all was well. It was 10:47 in the morning and John was feeling alive again, truly alive.

 


	10. Chapter 10

A week after John had walked into the water, college started and he had to help Alex move all their stuff of importance into an apartment off campus. They were supposed to live in the dorms but apparently being the son of a wealthy and feared senator had its upsides. Of course, the biggest downside was people expecting John to share his father's every ideal and personality trait. They expected him to be rude, loud, and arrogant, despite him being rather the opposite. He told this quietly to Alexander who replied with, "they don't know you. You just have to prove you aren't him."

The new apartment was small, cramped, but decent. They had to share a bedroom, beds against opposite walls, and one desk that Alex usually occupied. The kitchen, much to their disappointment, was dismal. They had a microwave that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in years and a mini fridge that had suspicious stains. No oven, and no stove either. When Alex had first looked around, he shrugged.  
"I've seen worse," he had sighed. John hadn't known how to respond and simply wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

On the first day of school, they ran into Lafayette again. As fate would have it, they all had American History and pre-law together. Both classes, coincidentally, were taught by the same teacher- a Professor George Washington, who was tall and stern with a light behind his eyes. He wasn't particularly old, perhaps fifteen years their senior, and Alexander could already tell that this man would be his favorite.

"Alexander, John!" Lafayette had called as class started. "Over here."

Alex grinned, tugging John along as they recognized the person. "Hey!" he exclaimed. "We were wondering if we'd see you around."

Lafayette was wearing a more masculine blue top with ripped jeans and a colorful scarf around their neck. They had in gold hoops and a stud at the top of their ear. "As was I," they responded. "How is everything?"

"It's good," John answered, sitting down beside them. "About last time, thank you again."

"Forget it," Lafayette said, waving a manicured hand. "I've already told you, there is no need. Are you two living in dorms?"

Alex shook his head, setting down his textbooks. "No, we've actually gotten an apartment off campus."

"Really? My friend, Hercules Mulligan, and I do too."

"Cool. Is he studying here?" John asked.

"He's studying with a fashion industry downtown. Fantastic work, you should see it some time." Lafayette tucked a strand of hair behind their ear. "You should meet him after classes. Speaking of which..." they straightened as Washington stepped up.

"Hello," he said in a deep, calm voice. "I'm Professor Washington. As you can hopefully see, I teach both pre-law and American History, as well as manage the debate team. I'd like to start by going over attendance. Aaron Burr?"

Alex raised his eyebrows. "Debate team?" he asked. "Where do I sign up?"

John laughed softly and slapped his arm. "I know you'd like that."

"Getting to fight with people? Hell yes!"

John rolled his eyes. Alexander was adorable when he was excited. "You idiot. Okay, stop talking. Washington's gonna get mad."

"Make me." The phrase hung in the air for a long moment before Lafayette cleared their throat.

"Honestly, you two. I'd rather not get into trouble my first day here."

"Alexander Hamilton," Washington called.

Alex raised a hand. "Here sir." He turned back to Lafayette and John. "We won't get into trouble," he assured.

John raised his eyebrows. "You are hopeless, Alex. Shut up."

"Rude. Pizza tonight?"

"Pizza."

Alex sighed. "I'm hungry."

"That's because you didn't eat this morning."

"I know."

With an exasperated sigh, John pulled a chocolate bar out of his bag. "Eat."

Alex took it quickly and took a bit, moaning at the taste. "Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?"

"Have I ever told you how annoying and incompetent you are?"

Alex glared at him in mock defensiveness. "Excuse me? I am not incompetent."

"I had to remind you to shower yesterday!"

Lafayette edged closer. "Enlighten me."

John chuckled softly, glancing at Alex who was finishing off the chocolate. "He was writing. We don't even have any assignment! He was just writing for, like, six hours."

Lafayette looked shocked. "What in the hell? Alexander, who does that?"

"Lafayette?" Washington called, the name rolling easily off his tongue.

"Here, sir," Lafayette said, raising a hand. They felt a happiness that the man had pronounced their name right the first go. That had never happened before. "Also, sir, they and them pronouns please."

Their heart thudded as eyes turned to look at them, questioning and confused.  
Washington simply nodded. "Alright. Students? You hear that? They and them pronouns. If I hear word of any of you disrespecting their preferred pronouns, I will take it upon myself to do justice to the punishment delivered. To the rest of you, if anyone else has preferred pronouns or such, please come see me and I will be sure to use them. John Laurens?"

"Here, sir," John said, raising a hand.

"James Madison?" A boy clutching a handkerchief to his mouth raised a hand.

Alex bumped Lafayette's shoulder. "Hey, I like him."

Lafayette grinned, glancing up at the Professor. "As do I."

John sighed, slipping down his seat and fiddling with pencils. He was tired and bored and little disturbs by how close Lafayette and Alexander acted despite hardly knowing each other. He knew there was nothing between them and he liked Lafayette, they were nice and smart, and he knew that they and Alexander had gone through the same kind to switch from home to America.  
His stomach churned thinking of what his father would say if he could see him right now.

"John?" Alex asked. "You alright?"  
John jolted as a gentle hand touched his arm. He flushed when he realized it was only Alexander.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I'm good."

"You're pale, mon amie," Lafayette commented.

John shook his head. "I'm fine."

Alexander looked skeptical. "You sure?"

"Yeah." The tremble in his voice was hard to hide and Alex took his hand and squeezed it, not saying anything.

Class started with Washington quickly covering the courses for the year and giving out a list of all the homework- which Alex scanned and said, "a limit of ten pages? Really?" and sighing. He then set the expectations for behavior.

"You can eat on Wednesday's and Fridays but, unless you have permission from me, every other day you are not allowed. If I find wrappers and stickers on the floor, you will loose the privilege. You are expected to raise your hands and talk in a brief, orderly fashion. I have been, ah, informed that some of you," he looked straight at Alexander with a smile, "like to talk."

John chucked, sharing a glance with Lafayette. Alex elbowed him in the ribs gently. "Shut up," he muttered as Washington began to brief them on more of his expectations.

"...can assure you that I am a tough grader. I expect you all to listen and get good grades as I cover each subject in detail and pass out study guides. If you fail more than three tests in a row, I will have yo-" He was cut off as the doors opened and a new person entered the room.

The boy was tall and dark, dressed in a fitting and tailored violently purple blazer with a white tee shirt and dress pants. He stopped in the doorway, obviously enjoying the students attention. His face was mischievous and rather attractive, Alex had to admit, and his hair surrounded his head like a halo of blackness.

"So," he said in a slow, southern drawl that filled the room, "what did I miss?"

Alex felt a sudden and unexplained rush of hatred towards the boy.


	11. Chapter 11

The boy sashayed over to Washington, handing him an note. "Thomas Jefferson, sir. I was helping Professor Von Steuben with some lost students. Have I missed anything important, sir?"

Washington took the paper, quickly reading over it. "Very well, Thomas. I'm sure you already know the expectations and such, but stay a few moments after class if you want so I can brief you on a few other things. Take a seat."

Thomas nodded and headed over to sit next to James Madison and another, smaller boy who's name Alex was pretty sure was Aaron Burr. Thomas smirked over at John, eyes fixed on him.

"Are you alright?" Alex asked softly, setting a gentle hand on John's arm.

John turned to look at him, face empty and eyes shadowed. "I know him. His father and mine are friends."

Lafayette bit their lip. "John. I've known him every since I came to America. Listen, he doesn't share all of his father's views. He believes strongly in LGBT rights, and that women should have the right to abortions in certain circumstances. Through he does share certain...Conservative views, he is not a bad person."

"I don't like him," Alex muttered.  
Lafayette sighed. "You don't like anybody. John, you going to be alright?"

John nodded, face still empty. "Yeah. Yeah."

Class went on for another forty  five or so minutes. When they were dismissed, Alex had to hurry off to his next class but both Lafayette and John had a free period. Apparently Jefferson did to because he waltzed over and leaned on John's desk. "Well," he drawled, "if it isn't the Senators son and the Marquis."

Lafayette smiled. "Good morning, Thomas. I've told you before, I don't go by that in America."

"John Laurens," John introduced, cutting in. "We've met once before."

Thomas ignored the outstretched hand and tilted his head, examining John. "I've heard some interesting things about you lately."

"Is that so?" John asked, guarded.  
"Your father told my father that you have been disowned because you're," he looked around in an exaggerated fashion, "gay."

John clenched his fists, nails cutting through his skin. "Shut up," he snarled, hackles raised.

"Relax," Jefferson said softly. "For your information, it's cool. I mean, you're the reason I didn't tell my father as planned but, ah well. I should probably let you know that I am bisexual. Hold that over me and I can let loose some dirt on your family."

"You?" John was taken aback. "But your father's even more conservative than mine!"

Thomas shrugged. "He can't disown me. I'm an only child. No one left to carry the name if I'm gone. Now, Hamilton, that's who you've chosen to hang with?"  
John narrowed his eyes. "Is there a problem? How do you even know him?"

"No," Thomas snorted. "I've heard some things."

"How?"

Thomas shrugged nonchalantly. "He's gotten in trouble at previous places. Talked too much, to abrasive, rude, violent. You name it."

John clenched him fists. "I don't believe you."

"Suit yourself."

John forced his muscles to relax. "You said you had dirt on my family?"

"Yes," he said with an easy, practiced smile. "Child abuse, alcoholism. Now not accepting a child, well, my father crawls into that category too."

"Well, there's nothing we can do about that- for either of us."

"Thomas," Lafayette said gently. "We have to leave. Washington is throwing us glares."

Thomas smiled over at them, features softening a bit and John realized how eerily similar they looked. "Of course, my dear Friend. How Mulligan's work coming along?"

Lafayette grinned at the mention of their friend. "If he can get the dress he's been working on on the runway, he could make a breakthrough."

"Tell him I send him my wishes."

"I will pass it along."

John ran a hand through his hair as Thomas departed. He didn't seem too bad despite being a huge asshole, and in truth, John felt bad for the boy. He knew first hand what it was like to have a father who didn't accept you and he wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy. He glanced over at Lafayette. "You know him?"

They shrugged. "I met him when I first came to America. He spoke French and I spoke not much English. He and Herc taught me. I don't know where I'd be without him."

John didn't probe, instead took out his phone which had buzzed.

Alex.Ham: ugh

John™: you bored?

Alex.Ham: what gave it away

John™: the fact that ur in math rn and u hate math

Alex.Ham: aww <3

Alex.Ham: you remembered

Alex.Ham: I've got a Washington next wbu

John™: Washington again yay

John™: so does Laf 

John™: then pre medicine shit

Alex.Ham: u seem ecstatic

John™: overjoyed

John™: at least I have art stuff after

Lafayette peered over John's shoulder. "Do you think he'd mind if we drove back to my place and met Herc. He's not supposed to be at the studio today."

"I'll ask," John replied, quickly typing up the question.

Alex.Ham: I don't care

John™: really

Alex.Ham: just don't forget about ur next class and ill see you at lunch

John™: thanks

Ten minutes later, John found himself in Lafayette's car. It was surprisingly cheap and dirty for a Marquis. John glanced at it questioningly. Lafayette waved their hand. "I draw enough attention as it is," they said softly. "How are you liking college?"

"I've had one class," John answered. "I do like Washington a lot though."

Lafayette nodded, backing out of the parking lot. "As do I. It's rare you get a teacher so calm and understanding with your pronouns."

"I wouldn't know," John murmured. "I'm sorry. What- what happened?"

Lafayette's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "It took me five years to tell my parents that my pronouns were they and them. My mother is kind, understanding, but even she has her limits. She stopped speaking to me all together. My father...he screamed at me, told me that I wasn't real, wasn't valid. They kicked me out, I still have some money left from them but it's all going to my sisters after they're gone."

John squeezed their arm. "I'm so sorry. I know what it's like."

Lafayette nodded, wiping their eyes. "I'm sorry. It's still hard to recount."

"I know. You alright?"  
Lafayette nodded again. "Yes." They sighed and glanced over at John. "Do you like Alexander?" they asked softly.

John tensed. "No," he answered despite the tug in his chest.

Lafayette arched their flawless eyebrows. "Really?"

John hesitated for a moment. He didn't like Alex in that way. Sure, he was sweet, kind, smart, and oddly endearing but he was just a friend. "Yeah," he said firmly, every part of his boy screaming, _wrong!_  "I don't like him like that."

Lafayette nodded slowly. "So he's not taken?"

A bitter feeling rose in John's stomach. "Why? You interested?"

Lafayette shrugged. "Can't say I'm not." They drummed their nails on the wheel. "Does that bother you?"

John shook his head. "No," he lied, heart sinking. Lafayette was smart and beautiful. John didn't miss the way the creole accent thickened when Alex spoke to the Marquis, how he let his words roll in a way they never did with John. He didn't miss how comfortable Alex seemed conversing in French, how he enjoyed it more than he enjoyed his time with John. He knew he didn't stand a chance against the Marquis and part of John's wanted to hate them but couldn't bring himself to.

Lafayette put a hand on his shoulder. "I will not pursue him, John."

"Why not?" John asked, emotions conflicting. He wanted Lafayette to be happy but he also wanted them to be out to the picture for a while so he could resolve whatever he had between Alex.

Lafayette winked, cracking a smile. "That is for you to find out, mon amie." 

John puzzled over that for the rest of the ride.

The apartment, turns out, was only a minute away from John and Alex's. Lafayette pulled up and pushed the door of the car open, stretching their long legs.

"Lets go in," they told John. A faint scent of ocean reached John's nose and he breathed deeply.

The inside of the apartment was tidy, cramped, and smelling of cookies. Lafayette stopped in the doorway, inhaling the smell. "Herc!" they shouted. "Did you bake?"

A tall, big black boy appeared at the top of the stairs. "Laf, aren't you supposed to be at college? Oh," he commented, spotting John. "Who's this?"

"John Laurens," John introduced. "You must be Hercules Mulligan."

The boy- Hercules- smiled. "Just Herc. It's nice to meet you. Laf told me about meeting you."

"They did?"

Herc brightened, hearing the pronoun used correctly. "A bit. Come in, I have food."

John laughed as Laf rocketed up the stairs. He didn't miss how Herc's eyes lingered on them a moment too long. "So," John started, "Laf told me you sew?"

Herc nodded enthusiastically. "I'm working a dress that some big company requested. They said that if it reaches their ridiculously high standards, it could travel to the runway."

"That's amazing! Wow, I've never been much for sewing."

Herc shrugged. "No one in my family really ever sewed but I taught myself. Been sewing fifteen years now."

"That's incredible," John commented. "And you work at some high end place, right?"

"Yeah. I work to pay the rent seeing as _someone_ has enough money to do so already without a job," he called, raising his voice enough so that Lafayette could hear. From the kitchen, they laughed.

"I've offered to pay for you before," they said, emerging from the kitchen with a plate of brownies which they handed out to John and Hercules.

Herc smiled, eyes brightening, as he took the brownie. His eyes traced Lafayette's face, their hair. "Thanks," he said softly.

And suddenly, John had no doubt in his mind that Hercules Mulligan was hopelessly in love with Lafayette. It was in the way he moved around them, the way he spoke and looked at them, signs written all over his face but lacking on Lafayette's. John sighed sadly, feeling badly for Herc.

A few minutes later, John found himself sat on the couch squished next to Laf while Herc asked him questions about himself. "When did you come here?"

"A few months back," John answered, fiddling with his shirt sleeve. "From South Carolina."

"Really?" Herc asked, eyebrows arching. "The South?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd you move?"

John sighed. "I didn't agree with everything there. I couldn't be myself in the South."

"Oh. I...I'm sorry." Herc looked a little taken aback. "But you're happy here?"

John nodded, smile only slightly forced. "Yeah, definitely. It's different but I like it."

"Good! You're welcome here whenever you like."

Next to him, Lafayette let out a violent explicative. "We have to be back in a quarter hour," they muttered. "Damnit. I almost lost track of the time."

"That wouldn't be good," John answered.

"Herc," Laf said, "you think we could bring Hamilton here after classes?"

Herc shrugged. "Eliza and Pegs might be here later. Angie has classes. I don't mind."

"Thanks," Laf answered, patting his leg. John noticed how Herc's cheeks flushed and the way his eyes flickered down to Laf's lips for an instant.

John cleared his throat. "It was great meeting you," he told Hercules. "I think we should go now. Class starts soon and I want to be there early enough to catch Alex."

Hercules nodded, tearing his eyes away from Lafayette. "Oh, sure. It was great meeting you too. Bring Alex by."

"Will do."

Lafayette wrapped an arm around Herc. "See you around, _mon_ _chou_."

Herc wrenched away, looking at Lafayette in faux indignation. "Did you say " _my_ _cabbage_?" What does that even mean, Laf?"

Lafayette laughed, turning and walking towards the stairs. "See you later, my cabbage."

John chuckled, waving goodbye to Hercules. "Thanks for the food," he called, following Lafayette out.

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: transphobia
> 
> Also, what happened to Laf in this chapter is personal experience.

Thomas Jefferson. 

The name held so many years of artfully carved legacy. A legacy that he must preserve with all his might lest it crumble. He must carefully smooth over any defects and continue shaping it. He must polish it until it shone, must hold his head high and live past everyone's expectations- including his own.

Thomas Jefferson.

The boy everyone saw as a genius, the best student in every class, the one who schooled teachers. The boy who was calm and cold on the outside, carefully emotionless with the quickest tongue and the most elegant words. The boy who no one truly liked but to boost their own popularity and attractiveness.

Thomas Jefferson.

The boy people whispered about in corners, who was laughed at, sent threats, and sentenced to a miserable school life just because of his name. The boy who tried to fit in with the rich kids but even with the impeccable clothes and glamorous house didn't quite achieve his goal. The boy people saw as so hard and collected on the outside, they never noticed a bruise around his wrist or a tear drying on his cheek. And why would they? He was the perfect student, the perfect Southern gentleman.

Thomas sat up straight as role call began in his pre-law class. He had elected to sit in the back, away from interested eyes and whispers. The boy he had chosen to sit by coughed into a handkerchief several times before noticing Thomas as he sat down and flinching in shock. He looked away quickly, coughing again, and Thomas felt sick to his stomach about the snap judgments made.

"Thomas Jefferson," Washington called.

Thomas raised a hand. "Here, sir." He turned back to the boy, who stifled another cough. "Do you need a cough drop?" he asked softly.

The boy looked terrified for a second before shaking his head. "No thank you," he said softly.

Thomas sighed internally. "Please," he said again, laying the Southern charm on thick. "I insist." He dug in his bag and produced one, offering it to the boy.

The boy smiled and took it. "Thank you."

"James Madison?" Washington called.

The boy- James- raised his hand. "Here, sir."

"James Madison?" Thomas asked. "Nice to meet you."

James smiled. "It's my pleasure. It's not often you meet the son of a Senator such as your father."

Thomas knew he should put on a confused face, ask what he meant by that, but he didn't want to. "Yeah," he said, huffing a laugh. "It's annoying sometimes."

James didn't respond at first, just popped the cough drop in his mouth. "I've heard about you, you know."

Thomas's heart sank. There went his chance at making a friend. "Oh."

"No!" James said worriedly. "Not bad...not all of it. It's just...there are some interesting stories going around." Thomas was about to ask what when Washington started talking.

"Everyone is here so I thought that, as an introduction, we'd have an open class discussion about a controversial topic. There are no rules other than basic classroom ones. We'll see how it goes. If anyone would like to suggest, I am open to it so long is it is not outrageous. Amy, you have something?" He paused for a second while a girl with red hair mumbled something. "The issue on the table: Transgender Bathroom Rights. Amy, start us off."

The girl stood up. "Transgender people should use the bathrooms of their biological gender. We do not know whether or not they come in to assault people or simply make a bother of themselves. Until there can be more investigations and such, they should not be allowed to use the restrooms of the opposite sex." She sat down.

Thomas could see Washington breathing deeply, unclenching his hands. "Thank you, Amy. Who's next? Lafayette? It is Lafayette, right? You have the floor."

They stood up, brushing a strand of hair behind their ear. Thomas tensed, ready to rush to his friends defense should the need arise. "First off," they started calmly, "I would like to recognize that sex and gender are different. Sex refers to what is in your pants, for lack of better term." A giggle rippled through the classroom. "Gender refers to how you personally identify, whether that be male, female, or something in-between," they gestured to them self, "like me, for example. Now, back to the topic. If someone biologically born as male feels as if they are the opposite, who's to say they aren't? Take Caitlyn Jenner for example. You see her in the women's bathroom you'd think, "oh, a woman," and pay no attention. Now imagine if you saw her in the men's room, you might be uncomfortable. People don't want to cause a disturbance, people just want to pee in peace. Now-"

"What bathroom do you use?" someone shouted. Their voice was accented, British. Thomas jumped to his feet, seeing Hamilton and Laurens do the same from across the room. Lafayette raised a hand, keeping them at bay, like guard dogs.

Lafayette flashed a brilliant smile. "I am an immortal being, I have no need for bathrooms." The class giggled but Thomas heard the tremble in their voice that no one else seemed to catch.

Washington stepped up, quieting the class. "Who said that?" he said, voice calm but dangerous.

To Thomas's surprise, a brown haired boy sauntered forward. "Me. Samuel Seabury, Sir."

"Samuel Seabury," Washington repeated. "I suppose you didn't get the notice but we respect people's preferred pronouns in this classroom regardless of personal opinion. If I hear you make any more remarks, you will be punished. Now, I believe you owe an apology to Lafayette, here."

Seabury glanced over at Lafayette, eyes full of disgust. "Sorry", he snarled before heading back to his seat.

Lafayette nodded and sat down, face whitening. Alex and John were immediately speaking quietly to them. Thomas couldn't hear what they were saying but was glad that they had made supportive friends. He saw Lafayette smile and wrap an arm around John and felt a little sad. He wished he had a friendship that close but a Jefferson couldn't afford those bonds. Of course, he was close to Laf but it was a tender, fragile one. One word from his father could ruin both of them.  
"Are you done speaking, Lafayette?" Washington asked kindly.

" _Oui_. I suppose so, Sir." Lafayette nodded, glancing quickly.  
Washington cast one more concerned look towards them before addressing the rest of the room. "Next person." No one was surprised when Alexander Hamilton stood up. "Alexander, you have the floor."

"I'd like to add on to what Lafayette said. Gender is not biological so until you can prove that every single person who says they identify as Transgender is out to assault and cause a nuisance and even then you cannot prohibit an entire group of people from peeing, for Gods sake! Now, if you have a problem with someone's gender identity, good! You know why? Because you have no right to attack them on it or have any say in it. If a biological girl starts taking T, then let that person do that. If a biological boy wears makeup and jewelry, let them live! We talk about Transgender women attacking women in the bathroom and raping them but don't mention that the percentage of women raping women is very small and that there hasn't been a recorded event of a trans woman sexual violating anyone. Campus assault rates however, are far higher but we don't talk about that. We teach women that their bodies can be violated if they wear certain things and it's not the rapists fault but the second we want to bring down Transgender people, it's the rapists fault- which it should be in any giver situation regardless of race, gender, or any other variable." He sat down.

Thomas was impressed, even more so when Washington gave a quick nod and smile of approval. He stood up, spurred on by the silence and lack of anyone else standing.

"If I may," he said, smiling calmly. "I do agree with Hamilton on several points but I feel like if you haven't transitioned or at least made an effort to try and look like the opposite gender, you should use the bathroom that corresponds with your biological sex. If someone who appeared to be a man in every aspect, except identity, was in the women's bathroom then that would be quite worrisome and vice versa except for the biological woman in a men's bathroom would actually be put at risk. I propose that we refrain from allowing non transitioned or passing Transgenders to use their correct bathroom. After that, however, until they prove that they are here to, what was it? Ah, make nuisance or be dangerous, we have no right to stop them from relieving themselves. As for people who identify outside the gender spectrum, they should use whatever bathroom they want or feel safest in because the society we live in believes strongly in gender roles and does not openly accept this group of people outside of the gender binary." He sat down, feeling the eyes shift between him and Lafayette. Lafayette smiled at him, flashing a thumbs up.

Another boy stood up. He was tall and regal looking, if not a bit mad. "George King, Sir," he stated, words lilting. "Ah, Jefferson and Hamilton, what a way you have with words. If only they meant anything. Words mean nothing if wielded by men who cannot see past their own noses. These people are sorted into one category or the other. Male or female. There is nothing outside or in between. You are born male or you are born female, nothing other than that, you are that which you are born, you cannot change that. These people who say they want to neither, both, or the opposite gender are liars, special snowflakes. They feel as if they are too plain or two simple and create new words for themselves. We find ourselves in the midst of a gender revolution but not with real identities, simply fake ones created by people who cannot accept the norm." He shot a furtive smirk at Lafayette who's hands were clenched so tightly, Thomas was worried that they were tearing into their skin. "You are male or female. Nothing in between or outside or opposite." He sat down. Washington looked irked, opening his mouth to say something when he was cut off.

  
"Hamilton again, sir," Alex said boldly. "First off, George King, take your head out of your-sorry sir," he corrected when Washington shot him a warning it look. He cleared his throat and started again. "You say that we cannot see beyond our noses when we see a broad spectrum of genders. Male and female don't cover them. As long as you truthfully identify as it, there is nothing saying that it is false. From agender to genderfluid and from cis to trans, everything is valid. Don't speak on a topic you obviously know nothing about, you narrow minded shit bag!" The room erupted into a mixture of cheering and booing.

"Crawl back in the hole you fucking came from, 'special snowflake!'" someone screamed.

"Settle down!" Washington shouted, desperately trying to bring the calm to the chaos. "Everyone settle down. This debate is over, the rest of class if free time." He didn't bother scolding Hamilton or George King.

  
Immediately, Thomas rushed over to Lafayette who looked on the verge of tears while Hamilton was fuming and Laurens was desperately trying to stop him from actually killing someone. "Laf," he murmured, crouching to that their faces were the same level. "Hey."

" _Je suis si stupide_ ," Lafayette murmured, reverting back to their native tongue- something Thomas knew they did when they were stressed or uncomfortable. "J _e suis si stupide_."

" _Non_ ," Thomas replied. " _Non_ , you aren't stupid." He gently rubbed Lafayette's knuckles, getting them to open their hands. Their long nails had dug into the skin so that their palms were stained red and dripped down the side of their palms. "Hamilton!" he called sharply. "Tissues, now."

Alexander turned angrily but, upon catching sight of Lafayette's hands, turned again and rushed to get tissues and bandaids. John crouched beside Thomas. "Hey," he whispered calmingly. "You're okay."

" _Tu vas bien_ ," Thomas murmured, repeating the phrase in French. " _Tu vas bien_."

" _Merci_ ," Lafayette thanked shakily, gazing down at their hands as Alexander returned, clutching some anti bacterial, wet wipes, and bandages. " _Merci_ , Alex."

" _Pas de probleme_ ," Alex replied softly, taking their hand and starting to wipe it down. "Jefferson, get the other. John, put the cream on these."

Thomas took their hand gently, carefully wiping it down and keeping up a constant string of comforting phrases in French. He didn't hear Washington approach behind him until he cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said calmly. "May I speak for a moment?"

Thomas jumped a little, not missing how John eyed the tall man warily. "Of course, sir. Should we leave?"

"I think it is best for you to stay," Washington answered. He turned concerned eyes to Lafayette. "Are you alright?"

Lafayette nodded. "Yes sir," they whispered shakily, wincing as Alex pressed on one of the cuts.

"Sorry," Alex murmured."

"It's fine."

Washington sighed. "I cannot punish mister King, Lafayette. I can have this put on his record, however."

"Why?" John asked, beating Alex to the question.

"He never directly attacked Lafayette-"

"It was heavily implied, sir!" Alex burst out. "There as only one person he could have been directing it towards."

"Alexander, I am aware of that," Washington said calmly. "But unless it was a direct attack, I am powerless to do anything. I truly am sorry, Lafayette. If this happens again, they will be suspended. Would you like me to excuse you for the rest of the day?"

" _Non_ ," Lafayette said, shaking their head. "I am fine."

Thomas gripped their hand tightly, careful not to touch the cuts. "Write them an excuse. While you're at it, please write me one too, sir. Just for a bit. I can drive them." Hamilton shot him a glare for some reason. Perhaps he wanted the spot light.

Washington looked between them for a moment. "Very well. I'll email you teachers. Finish up and then you are excused." He stood. "Once again, Lafayette, I am sorry. I can try and prevent this from happening again. I'm sorry that your first day went like this."

"Thank you sir," Lafayette replied.  
John handed Alex the bandages.

"The cuts aren't deep, they should heal quickly just...don't over exert yourself."

"You didn't have to do this," Lafayette said miserably. "I am sorry I am a nuisance."

Thomas's heart clenched, hearing Lafayette repeat the word that had been used against them. John simply shook his head. "I owe you this, remember? It's nothing." Thomas wondered what he meant but didn't say anything.

Once Lafayette was ready to go, Thomas pulled them up gently and allowed them to huddle next to him. "You're in America," he whispered as Lafayette squeezed their eyes shut. "You're safe here." He knew every memory Lafayette was reliving in their past in France and knew how much they affected them. He didn't miss George King and Seabury smirking at them from across to room or the eyes of every other student fixated on them as they left. Thomas wrapped an arm around them protectively.

" _Merci, mon amie_ ," Laf murmured as they walked down the hallway.

"I am sorry."

"Don't be. You've done so much for me. I am paying you back now."

The walk to the car was uneventful and filled with soft, comforting words in French. Thomas didn't even hesitate to climb inside of Lafayette's old crappy car, despite his perfectly good one only feet away. He knew Lafayette needed a bit of home right now. God, if Senator Jefferson heard about this, Thomas would actually be killed. Presentation was everything and showing up to a cramped apartment in a shifty car with a non binary person who was in shock was not considered good.

The second Hercules had opened the door for them, Lafayette stumbled into his arms, clutching him tightly. Herc shot a questioning and slightly guarded look at Jefferson before stroking Lafayette's back, trying to console them. "What happened?" he asked Thomas.

Thomas sighed, biting his lip. "We were in pre-law and Washington decided to do an open debate..." he proceeded to summarize the events of the class, paraphrasing what King and Seabury had said while Lafayette sat curled under a blanket on a chair. Some of the earlier hostility had dropped but Herc still remained suspicious. By the time Thomas had finished, Herc looked like he was going to cry or kill someone.

"I can't believe this," he snarled. "I'm gonna fucking kill them."

"That will be bad for your career," Thomas advised. "I wouldn't do that."

"I don't give a damn!"

Thomas sighed. "May I speak to you for a second?" Herc nodded and they stepped into the closest little room. "I know you have a...thing for Lafayette."

Herc opened his mouth to respond, turning bright red. "I..."

"I'm not done," Thomas continued, holding up a finger. "I want to tell you to be careful with what you do regarding them. They need you. They care about you, trust you. You know what's best for them so take care. I have to get going now. That's all I wanted to say." Without allowing the other boy to respond, Thomas pulled him out of the room.

Lafayette was sitting in the same place, fiddling with their phone. "Alex and John have been texting me nonstop," they said softly.

"Are you okay?" Herc asked. "Should I cancel with the Schuyler's?"

" _Non_ ," Laf answered. "I will be fine. Thomas, can you pick up any work we have?"

Thomas nodded, eyes softening as he looked at the young Marquis. "Of course. Take care to your hands, Lafayette. Hercules, make sure they do."

"I know," Herc answered, stroking the back of Lafayette's hand with his thumb. "Want me to call a cab?"

"That would be nice," he accepted. Herc cast him a shadow of a smile and maybe, Thomas realized, maybe this was the start of an actual friendship.

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

I'M GONNA KILL HIM!" Alex roared, pacing around their little apartment. John followed, desperately trying to console him. "I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL HIM."

"Alex, calm down," John said gently. "They're gonna kick us out if we're too loud."

"I DON'T CARE!"

John recoiled, hesitantly saying, "it's okay, Alex."  
"This is not okay!" Alex snapped, whirling around, eyes blazing. "Seabury and King cannot get away with this!" John flinched violently, shrinking back against the wall, memories of his father pressing against him. Alex noticed the sudden fear and guilt on John's face and softened, moving closer to him. "John-" he started.

John shook his head. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry," Alex murmured, feeling the fight leave him. He gently took John's wrist, pulling him closer. Guilt and shame rose in his chest. He hadn't meant to scare John. He should have known, should have known that his tone, his volume, would have an affect. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I know, it's okay." John moved a tiny bit closer to Alex. Their noses were almost touching and Alex's breath stuttered. He felt his face redden as he felt the soft breath on his cheeks.

"I shouldn't have done that," Alex murmured, eyes flickering down to John's lips. If he tilted his head just a little, they would be kissing. Just a little... John's hand was warm on his, a weight that felt natural and good. Alex leaned in just a little farther, hearing John's breath hitch. 

The clock behind John's head read 7:25pm. Neither of them moved for a long moment, then John stepped back. "Herc canceled. Laf's still not up for anything, not that I blame them. We should start doing work," he said in a strangled voice. Alex closed his eyes, mourning the loss of the body heat. 

"Yeah," he managed, in a voice the sounded foreign and distant. Immediately, he retreated to his room, leaving John to do the same. 

Alex slumped against his door, letting out a strangled dry sob. He had been so stupid, so stupid to think John would ever want him, to think he ever had a chance with the boy who danced on starlight. He put his head in his hands, feeling tears coming on. They had been so close to being something more than whatever they were right now. He stood up, taking his laptop off the desk and opening a new document in a matter of seconds before collapsing on his bed.

Despite the insane genius of his human mind, Alex couldn't reconcile with his feelings. He didn't know how to express himself in any way other than that of written word, so, in this time of confusion and attraction, he wrote. He wrote because writing had always worked before. He wrote his way out of poverty and hell that island. He wrote his way to a full ride at a prestigious college. He would write his way through the churning sea of emotions in a letter addressed to John Laurens. A letter he would never see.

_My Dearest Laurens,  
Cold in my Professions, Warm in my Friendships, I wish, My Dear Laurens, that it might be in my power, by action rather than word to convince you that I_

Alex paused there, unsure of what to say next, unsure of what he wanted to say or what he felt. He sighed, turning back the document with uncertainty flooding his senses. For the first time ever, his words truly failed him. 

A million years ago, he and John had sat on his couch in the house by the beach and played a game. The question, have you ever been in love? Alex's answer? Not yet.  
Not yet.  
Not yet.  
_Yes._  
///  
There was a moment, an epiphany, in everyone's life when it feels like a shock of lightening, when you realize something so suddenly and so strongly that you are speechless. When everything has been taken from you momentarily except for that realization. 

John was standing in nothingness. He was floating in space and the only thing on his mind was the jolt he felt when he looked down into Alex's face, when they were almost kissing. The realization that sounded like a gunshot and ached like a bullet wound. He was drowning in nothingness and the only thing on his mind was that he was in love with Alexander Hamilton.

John jolted out of nothing and sank to the floor, supporting his upper body with his hands which dug into the carpet. He wanted to cry, wanted to disappear. The feelings were overwhelming and terrifying. And, in that moment, he realized three fundamental truths at the exact same time.

First, if he and Alex were, hypothetically, ever going to get together their relationship would put Alex in danger should he ever meet or have word of this get to Henry Laurens. The man had connections, could destroy Alex to hurt his son. They couldn't risk that. 

Second, in being together, any hope of scavenging any respect for the Laurens name would be gone. Any bond he could have with his family would be obliterated and he'd be known as the boy who caused the downfall of one of the most feared and respected families in the South.

Lastly, Lafayette. They liked Alex, John knew, despite saying they wouldn't pursue him. John couldn't bear do that to Laf, not with everything else they were struggling through at the moment. Lafayette and Alex understood each other, both having been immigrants, both knowing French. They had bonds John could never have. If Alex and John ever had a relationship, Lafayette would be happy _for_ them, they would congratulate them, but they _wouldn't_ be happy.

John wiped his eyes furiously. He hated this, this terrible aching pain in his chest, the need to have Alex close to him. He stood up, pulling out his canvas and easel for the first time since he'd met Alex, and he started to paint.

His art teachers called him 'gifted'. His other teachers called his work, scattered across homework and tests, 'distracting'. His father called it "shameful". John called it simple. It was true. Painting came naturally, flowing through his veins like it had for his mother. Every brush stroke took him closer to her, did justice to her memory. John hesitated over the blank canvas for a moment. His head was filled with thoughts and he didn't know what to paint for a moment. but before long, waves started rolling across the paper, staining sand a dark brown.

John sighed, stepping back and feeling almost at peace in that moment. It was 8:03.  
///  
Alex sat bundled up in blankets in front of his laptop, still staring at that document. He had mustered up the courage to keep writing, knowing that nobody but him would ever read that letter.

_Dearest Laurens,_  
Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than word, to convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that 'till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my dear, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others. You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my own sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me.  
Yrs Affectionately,  
A.Ham

Alexander closed his laptop with a sigh, pushing off the pile of blankets and stretching. Not his best work. John deserved better.

Something fell over in the John's room, resulting in a bang and a stream of profanity. Alex paused before opening his door, gathering his wits and courage. "John?" he called. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," John said, peering out of his door. There was tan paint on his nose. "It was a book."

Alex tilted his head. "Where you painting?"

John blushed. "Yeah?"

"Can I see?"

John nodded, disappearing back inside. Alex followed him to stand in front of the canvas, splashed in blues, greens, and golds. It was the beach outside the little house, perfectly painted. Every detail was impeccable despite the painting obviously not being finished.

"Wow," Alex breathed.

John shook his head. "It's not the best. I didn't have much time."

"It's incredible."

"You think so?" John asked incredulously, as if he used to being beaten down- which, thinking about it, he probably was.

"Of course!" Alex grinned over at him, feeling heart quicken just a bit. "You have paint on your nose."

John smiled sheepishly and rubbed it away, his cheeks were a little pink. "Thanks. Herc says tomorrow night should work. He wants to make sure Laf is okay." 

"Oh cool. I hope they are," Alex said. Then, "about earlier...I'm sorry."

John blinked in confusion. "For what?"

_Not kissing you._ "Scaring you. I should have realized."

John waved a hand. "I'm just paranoid. It's fine."

"No," Alex said softly, "it's not. I should have realized, I shouldn't have lashed out at you because I was frustrated. I'm sorry."

John hesitate a second before pulling Alex into a hug. Alex's heart sped up and he hoped John couldn't feel it. "It's fine," he whispered. "All is forgiven." He released Alex and clapped his shoulder. "We should order pizza."

Alex groaned. "We have pizza every night."

John laughed, snaking his arms gently. "You complaining?"

"Make it extra large."

The clock read 8:43pm as John pulled Alex by the wrist into the living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The letter Alex writes John is one he historically wrote so credit to irl Alexander Hamilton for being hella bi


	14. Chapter 14

"Alexander, don't you dare!" John hissed, fanatically attempting to grab the Monster energy drink out of Alex's hands while holding his textbooks. "Alex, this is not a good idea!"

Alex flipped him off, precariously balancing a thermos of coffee on his books while opening the Monster. It had been a two days since school had started. "I didn't sleep well," he said. "Let me live."

"Don't you dare. You're gonna kill yourself!"

Alex flashed him a winning smile before pouring the Monster into the thermos and taking a sip, exaggerating a thoughtful face. "Tastes like chemicals and imminent doom."

John yawned, casting an annoyed look at Hamilton. He had woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, nightmares starting to return. This one had been chilling, shaking him to the bone. He couldn't remember it now but he knew that Alex had died and that was too much for him to handle. Alex, of course, had gone to comfort him, sitting with him for the rest of the night while John attempted to reconcile with his emotions and not burst out how much he cared about Alex. After hours of being unable to sleep, they had decided to come to school early to hit the library and explore the selections of books. They hadn't expected to run headlong into Professor Washington.

Literally.

Alex glanced back at John, brushing his long hair out of his face and laughing at the disgusted look on John's, when he collided with Washington, who was checking his phone and carrying a briefcase. Before anyone knew what was happening, Alex had fallen back into John, who supported him (causing his heart to stop momentarily), and Washington has ended up stumbling forward and spilling his coffee. Alex looked mortified.

"Sorry, sir! Are you alright?" he asked frantically, eyes wide.

Washington glanced at him, taking a moment to recognize he two of them. "Oh, Alexander," he greeted calmly. "I'm fine. Sorry about that."

"It was my fault, sir."

Washington shook his head. "I shouldn't have been checking my phone."

"I should have been watching where I was going." John took his arm, squeezing it.

"Alex, I don't think Professor Washington would like to get in a debate with you right now. It's...7 in the morning," John said softly, grinning. "Let it go."

Alex looked embarrassed. "Sorry, sir."

Washington laughed, a deep and genuine laugh. "Don't apologize. I was hoping to run into you. Has Lafayette spoken either of you? They skipped my class yesterday and didn't have it the day before."  
John shook his head. "No sir."  
Washington sighed. "I hope they are alright. I've spoken to the board about Seabury and King's behavior but they don't have a problem seeing as neither of them directly called out Lafayette."

Alex groaned. "So there's nothing we can do?"

"No."

"Sir," John spoke up, "I thought you might want to know that Laf- Lafayette really appreciated you asking their pronouns. Herc mentioned to me that they were worried about that. They had some trouble with acceptance back in France."

Washington cracked a smile. "I try and stay informed. College is around the time when kids will start really either transitioning or being true to themselves. I want to provide the best environment I can for those kids. It's terrible that parents can't accept their children. I don't have any but I can't imagine..." He checked his phone, sighing. "I have to meet Professor Franklin before classes. Let Lafayette know that my door is always open if they need anything."

"Will do, sir," Alex assured, feeling his respect for the man grown exponentially. "We'll see you around, sir." Washington nodded and walked away. Alex took a large swig of his coffee- energy drink.

John shook his head, pulling a face. "Disgusting."

"Don't knock it until you try it." Alex offered the thermos and John reluctantly took a sip.

"JESUS!" he shouted. Then lowered his voice self consciously as Washington looked back in surprise. John smiled and waved. "I think it just ascended to a higher plane of existence. Not in a good way," he muttered, handing the drink back to Alex. He pulled his coat tighter around him as the wind picked up.

Alex grinned, taking the thermos back and continuing their way to the library. Much to his surprise, none other than Thomas Jefferson was sitting there studying. Another boy was sitting next to him.

"Hamilton. Laurens," Jefferson acknowledged without looking up. "Has Lafayette texted you? I haven't gotten anything."

"No," Alex said coldly, before turning to the other boy. "Who are you?"

The boy looked up. His head was shaven, his skin dark and smooth. "Aaron Burr," he said in a calm, silky voice.

"Aaron Burr? I'm Alexander Hamilton." Alex stuck out a hand which Burr hesitated before shaking. "I've heard about you, sir. You graduated high school early, didn't you? And I've heard you plan on graduating in two."

Burr looked taken aback. "I..."

Alex's face fell. "Sorry, sir. Sometimes I get over excited, shoot off at the mouth."

"No," Burr said, a little hesitant. "It's fine. Who's this?"

"John Laurens," John introduced himself. Burr gave him a wane, forced smile.

"Pleasure," he said. "I apologize but I must leave now. I'm sure we'll meet again." Keeping that strange smile on his face the whole time, he picked up the book he had been hunched over and walked away.

John looked at Alex in amusement. "Stalker much?"

"Shut up," Alex muttered. "I hear stuff. I troll through twitter in my spare time."

"Creep," John grinned.

Jefferson cleared his throat, glaring up at them in annoyance. "Any reason why you're here?"

Alex glared back. "It's a library. What do you typically do in the library?"

"Not talk?" Jefferson offered. "But you seem to be doing just that. Now Laurens I don't have a problem with. You, Hamilton, on the other hand..."

Alex looked between the two of them in confusion. "Do you two know each other?"

John's face softened as he turned from Jefferson to look at Alex. "Our fathers know each other."

Alex winced. "Ah."

Jefferson smirked. "Yeah. Now, if you don't mind, I'm actually trying to study so leave."

"What are you studying for?" John asked. "It's the fourth day!"

Jefferson's face darkened. "Not everybody has the luxury of not having their parents breathing over their shoulder. I have expectations to meet."

Alex was about to angrily reply when he saw John's face. It was sad, illuminated by the grey the light pouring through the window. His eyes were old, hundreds of years old and bore the weight of the world. "I'm sorry," John murmured, voice off in a way that couldn't be described. "We'll get going now." He took Alex by the arm and led him back into the shelves.

Alex pulled him back until they were hidden behind a tall bookshelf. There was barely enough room for them to stand more than a few inches apart and even then, it was cramped. "Your father's knew each other?" he questioned, feeling his heart speed up with John standing so close to him.

"Yeah. They worked together for a period of time. Thomas and I met a while back but we never really spoke." John's eyes were flicking back and forth and his words stumbled over each other in a slurred stream.

"Slow down," Alex said quietly. "Is it a problem?"

John shook his head. "I think...I think we're a lot more similar than either of us would like to think." He paused, eyes flitting down Alex's face. "That doesn't matter."

Outside, it was starting to rain. The grey sky had been alluding to it and both of them had known it was only a matter of time. Alex jumped as thunder clapped in the distance, unconsciously moving towards John who, thankfully, realized what was happening and wrapped an arm around Alex. Alex shivered against him, refusing to let memories of the hurricane take him.

"Breathe with me," John murmured. It was borderline disturbing how he knew what to do, knew everything Alex's needed. He pressed Alex's hand to his chest, letting him feel the rise and fall of his chest.

Alex relaxed. "I'm fine." He wanted to stay there forever, pressed safely against John. He wanted to stay in his warmth and his larger than life presence. He was so close. _No_ , he reminded himself. _No. No. No._ Not yet.

John didn't let him go when he started to push away. "Stay with me for a little," he murmured in a broken voice. "I think we both need it."

Alex didn't protest, just stayed there until his knees buckled with the next clap of thunder and John slowly lowered them both to the floor. Usually it was Alex who was comforting John but the roles had been reversed and John was doing everything in his power to keep Alex's head above the water. He stroked the shorter boys hair, resisting every bit of him that was begging John to just kiss him already. _No. No. No._

It was 7:36 in the morning when the storm reached its peak. The wind was wailing, screaming, and the torrents of rain cascaded down the windows, violently lashing out. Lightening illuminated the sky and thunder sounded like muskets and horse hooves in the distance. Alex had his head buried in John's chest, hands gripping his shirt as he wrestled with memories.

Alex considered himself a smart person. He prided himself on his mind. He knew the tricks it played, he knew the illusions his mind would create and he knew how to bypass them. But this, this was something he couldn't push past. The hurricane was a permanent fixture in his mind, never leaving and never fading. He could never stop the memories of the illusion of rain and wind ripping at his skin, or the sounds of screams echoing in his ears. Now, as he lay against John, praying for the storm to end, there were muted cries, black and white memories and the only thing he felt were John's hands tangling in his hair and brushing it out. The most prominent sound was his voice as he sang an incoherent tune. John was chasing the fear away.

Alex looked up at him, realizing what he was doing with a start. "How do you do that?" he croaked. John's hands stopped moving through his hair. The storm sounded a bit louder.

"Do what?" His hands started moving again.

Alex didn't have the words. "You make it go away. Everything go away. The storm..the hurricane...its like you block them out." _Everything but you_.

John smiled. "I don't know but I'm glad I could help."

Alex nodded, leaning back against him. "Can I stay here until it's over?" he asked.

"Of course," John said immediately. "Take as long as you need."

Alex sighed, turning his face back into John's shirt. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the sent of paint and coffee. The clock on the far wall read 7:40. For some strange reason being nestled up against John felt like home.


	15. Chapter 15

There were moments that words don't reach. There were emotions too fast and fluid to name. Every fear and every concern Alex had was pushed away, replaced instead with the feeling of John's arms wrapped around him.

Distantly, he heard thunder. The sky was illuminated with lightening. None of that mattered. John was holding him and he was safe and this was right.

Alex looked up slightly, seeing John gazing down at him with a look of affection and concern. Alex's heart stuttered and he just wanted to kiss him. _No. Not yet. No_. He allowed himself to sink back, to become reliant on the other boy. He had wished to keep his wellbeing free from the caprice of others but John was irresistible. He closed his eyes. For a moment, everything was good.

At 7:42, someone screamed as a window smashed and Alex's world stopped. John's arms were still around him, still pressing him to his chest but he was looking around in worry. The window beside them shattered as something blew into it and the roar of the wind surrounded them. Alex muffled a whimper into John's shirt and suddenly he was reliving his childhood. He was in the midst of the hurricane in the Caribbean and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

"Alex," John whispered, that single word cutting through the screams in Alex's head. "Alexander Hamilton, listen to me."

Alex looked up, fear filling his eyes. "John..."

"I know. I know. We're gonna move now. We need to get away from the window." John took Alex's hand, pulling him up and never letting him go. "We've got to move, Alex."

Alex nodded wordlessly, following John as they slowly made their way across the library to where teachers were flocking. The light fixture exploded above and glass fell like stars around them. John covered Alex with his own body, feeling sharp glass pierce his skin. All that was going through his mind was protect Alex. Protect him at all costs. He looked up, waving off a concerned teacher and excusing himself and Alex from the room.

Alex looked shaken, terrified. His tan skin was white as a sheet, eyes wide and haunted, but his skin was unmarred by glass. John reached out carefully and touched his face. "Alex," he murmured, but Alex wasn't seeing him. He was lost in something else. Something that made tears leak from his eyes. "Alexander."

"John?" Alex whispered, eyes focusing. "Oh my god." He reached out a shaking hand to touch John's cheek. "You're bleeding."

Was he? John waved him off. "I'm fine," he soothed. "I'm sure school's out today. Let's head back home."

Alex shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't..."

"I understand."

Alex started to cry and John felt his heart break. He could only imagine what the boy was reliving, could only fathom what he had seen and it killed him. John pulled him close to his chest, prepared to let him cry for as long as he needed. 

Alex inhaled deeply, smelling the paint and coffee mixed with rain and salt that clung to John's shirt. He let out a shaky breath, trying to compose himself and failing miserably. "John," he whispered. "I want to go home but I can't go out."

"I know," John whispered. "I understand. We can call Laf if you want. See if they can pick us up. Their apartment is closer than ours."

Alex nodded. "Thanks."

"You'd do the same for me."  
Alex didn't answer. The wind screamed as John pulled out his phone and dialed Laf's number. "Hey," he greeted. "It's John....Herc?" His brow furrowed before a worried looked dawned on his face. "Oh god."

Alex edged forward, worry flooding him. "What happened?" he asked, anxiously anticipating the answer.

John held up a hand. "But you're okay, right? Are they?...no, we're okay. Actually, never mind that but how bad is it?" He sighed in relief. "Oh thank god. Shit, man. Stay with us. It's fine. We have the couch and stuff." He paused. "No trouble, don't worry. Okay, bye."

"What is it?" Alex asked.

"Everyone is alive," he began, "but Laf was driving." Alex felt his heart stop. "They're okay," John rushed to add, "but they did crash a short ways from the house. Couldn't see the road. The car was basically totaled and Laf's a little scraped up but they'll be fine. Herc says they walked back to house. Also the apartment was beat up. Badly. They need a place to stay."

"With us?"

"Yeah."

Alex sighed, feeling his strength abandon him. There was too much happening right now. "How bad is Laf?"

"Not too bad. Sprained wrist, and a gash on their forehead. They've had worse. Herc didn't tell me that at first and he sounded terrified." John waved a hand nonchalantly but his eyes sparkled with worry. "We can't stay here, Alex. Washington's already heading over to us."

Alex looked around, taking in their surroundings for the first time. They were in the hall next to the library and, sure enough, Washington was making his way over to them. There was blood running down his arm, probably from the glass. "Hamilton, Laurens," he called. "Are you alright?"

"Yessir," John replied. "We'll be fine." Alex didn't speak but he nodded in agreement to John's statement, leaning closer to him.

Washington's shoulders slumped. "The forecast said just a small storm. We didn't expect-" he gestured around, "-this. Do you have way home?"

"Yes," Alex replied.

Washington sighed. "We're lucky the storm didn't escalate to something worse." 

Alex's mouth went dry. He looked at John with mounting fear in his eyes, asking him to do something. John took his hand gently, holding it to his chest so Alex could feel his heart beating steadily. Alex relaxed, matching his own breath to the rise and fall of John's chest. His hands grabbed at the fabric of John's shirt. All the while, Washington simply stayed there, silent and observant.

"You alright?" John asked. He hated this. Hated seeing Alex in pain or afraid. He wanted to kiss him, to tell him everything would be alright and everything was okay.

Alex nodded, dropping his hand but never taking it out of John's. "I'm fine," he whispered.

Washington cleared his throat, sensing that the moment was coming to an end. "If your car is destroyed or in bad shape, come back in and I can get you a cab or drive you myself."

John turned to look at him with surprise, as if he had momentarily forgotten he was there. "That's very kind, sir. Thank you...we don't actually have a car, we just planned on walking."

Washington smiled. "It's no trouble. I'll call something for you." At that moment, Jefferson came running into the hallway.

"Sir," he greeted, eyes falling on Alex and John, a look of worry and disgust passing over his face. "Hamilton, Laurens, did Hercules text you?"

Alex turned to look at him, ready to passive aggressively insult him. The words died on his lips when he saw the blood on his neck, and the look of pure and complete worry on his face. "Yeah," he replied, tone calm, if not a bit harsh.

"He and Laf are staying at your place?" John nodded. "I'm coming."

"What?" Alex exclaimed. "No!"

Washington sat by, unsure of whether he should say something or not. "Alexander," he finally said. "Watch your tone." Jefferson smirked.

"Laf's my friend too. I want to make sure they're okay."

"Did something happen?" Washington asked in concern.

Alex answered, "Lafayette lives with their friend, Hercules Mulligan, and their apartment got pretty beat up. Both of them need a place to stay."

Jefferson glared at him. "And I'm going with."

"No," Alex said shortly.

"Yes."

"No."  
"Have fun trying to stop me."

"It's our apartment!" Alex snapped.

"So?" Jefferson argued. "Laf's my friend. I want to be there for them."

Washington cleared his throat. "It's reasonable, Alexander."

"Sir!" Alex exclaimed, looked betrayed. He looked over at John who shrugged. "Fine," he snarled. "Lets go." He stood up, feeling a little lightheaded, and headed out into the courtyard.

"Alex!" John called. He glanced back at Washington. "Thank you for the offer, sir. We have to leave." Washington nodded, raising a hand in farewell. John rushed after Alex.

Jefferson sighed and rolled his eyes, tugging his magenta coat tighter around him. "See you soon, sir."

"Goodbye, Jefferson," Washington answered, regrouping with several teachers to talk about the damage.

Outside, John grabbed Alex's arm. "Slow down," he said softly. "I know you hate Jefferson but he does have the right to see if Laf's okay."

Alex spun around, pulling his arm out of John's hand. "I know but it's not just that."

"Then what is it?"

Alex gestured around. The storm had calmed to just rain or some wind but had left the courtyard a mess. Branches were scattered across the yard, plants were overturned and there was glass from windows like diamonds in the green grey light. "Everything," he said softly.

John wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Alex didn't pull away this time; even as Jefferson approached. "Can you maybe not run off?" he huffed.

"No," Alex and John answered.  
Jefferson huffed and crossed his arms, following the pair out to where a cab was waiting.

"Hamilton and Laurens?" the driver asked.

"And Jefferson,"John added, gesturing to the boy behind them. "Yeah."

"Right," the driver drawled. "Get in." 

John unslung his arm and climbed in, leaving Alex to sit in between him and Jefferson. "You're the smallest," he pointed out. "It would be miserable for either of us."

Alex stuck his tongue out, climbing into the middle seat.

Jefferson wrinkled his nose, following suit. "Move, Hamilton," he hissed.

"Fuck you, I can't."

John sighed, giving the driver directions and looking out the window. This was going to be a long ride.


	16. Chapter 16

George Washington came from old money. His family had lived in Virginia as long as he could remember, and dated as far back as the seventeen hundreds. For hundreds of years, the Washington's resided in Virginia. He had been the first to move out and stay out. Being southern, Virginian views could vary drastically and he preferred to leave the shifting sea of politics behind him.

He had chosen here, of all places. This school, this town, this exact profession. History had called to him, filled his head- specifically revolutionary times. Throughout his years in school, he had always looked forward to the class. He loved it, loved the past and how it translates into the present and future but it wasn't only history that he loved.

Washington had never felt the connection to law the way he had to history but it was something that could boost his paycheck. He always looked forward to seeing the students and seeing where they would go in life. As little as he wanted to admit it, he had, as a college student, looked up to and admired Henry Laurens' law skills. 

Henry had been a few years ahead of Washington when they met. His debate and speaking skills blew Washington away, inspired him. But when he finally sat down to listen to Henry debate, what he said felt like a punch. He preached hatred against women, the LBGTQ community, and other minorities.

It felt wrong, like betrayal that this man whom he had looked up to had turned out to be what he was. Washington had studied and learnt all he could in school in hopes to one day challenge Henry. Of course, the man had left before he ever had a chance, becoming some high-end lawyer. When John Laurens had come to his class, Washington had expected him to act the same way as his father.

He hadn't expected the quiet, kind boy who had made friends with a non binary student and an immigrant, who fought for equality no matter race, gender, religion, or sexuality. John Laurens had smashed his expectations and was soaring far beyond them. Already, he had proven himself to be not only an attentive student but also about eighty five percent of Hamilton's self control. Washington had no doubt he'd already be suspended if John wasn't beside him, holding him back from Seabury and King for mocking Lafayette.

_Oh, Lafayette_. Washington's heart ached for the kid. He knew their background, had been briefed on it. They had come to America after a falling out verged on violent with their parents. He inwardly had applauded them on announcing their pronouns the first day of school. It look more guts than most people had to do that and felt absolutely awful about Seabury and King. Had it been up to him, he would have cast them from his class for showing such disrespect. How Lafayette had handled the first part, hiding hurt with humor, worried him. Washington used to do the same thing and had seen countless students do that as well. It was not healthy, was not good and could only lead to more pain.

Washington tugged his coat around him as he headed towards the teachers, all of whom looked shocked and upset. All around them was glass and fallen books and debris. Professor Franklin rushed towards him. "George," he greeted. "I've had emails sent to the students that school can't go on. We've decided to open up several empty classrooms and dorms for students who live of campus who's homes have been damaged." He sighed. "It's a mess. Steuben is having a fit. His classroom was totaled by a tree."

"Has anyone been hurt?" Washington asked, disregarding everything else.

Franklin shook his head. "Nothing major." He reached out and touched Washington's arm. "You're bleeding."

"It's nothing. I haven't gotten a call from Martha yet, so, if you'll excuse me..." he trailed off.

"Of course. Tell her 'hello' for me."  
Washington smiled and walked away, pulling out his phone. She picked up the first ring. "Martha," he murmured. It sounded almost like a plea.

"Are you alright?" she asked, voice shrill and worried.

He closed his eyes, taking in her voice. The fears he had were expelled from his mind in a gust of relief. "I'm fine," he assured.

"How are you?"

"I'm alright," she said. "The house is kinda beaten up on the outside but everything inside is fine. That was some storm. Your students are fine, right?"

"No one was seriously hurt. We cancelled today so I'll be home soon." 

"George!" Franklin called.

George held up a finger. "I have to go now. Love you. Ben says hi."

"Love you," she whispered before hanging up.

Washington closed his eyes for a long moment, relishing in the calm around him before joining the chaos that the other professors were discussing. "What is it?" he asked as Steuben approached him.

"Nothing. We're closing up for today," he said. "People are coming to help clean up tomorrow. Head home, George. Everything's fine."

"Are you sure?" Washington asked. "There's nothing I can do?"

Steuben shrugged. "I don't think so. I haven't been told anything other than that. Try and get some rest, I guess."

Washington sighed. "I can't believe this," he murmured.

"I know. I don't know what the casualties are yet but I don't think they are too high. We're lucky we were here."

"I suppose." Washington dug in his pockets for his keys. "I'll be going now. Call me if the need arises."

"Take care. Hopefully school will be back on soon."

"Hopefully," he repeated before biding everyone a goodbye and leaving.

The wind and rain hit his face, washing away some blood on his forehead and leaving him chilled by the time he reached his car, parked under a large tree. He quickly sent a thanks out to the universe that it hadn't fallen, therefore hindering his way home.

It was 8:04 by the time he pulled out of the parking lot and began the treacherous drive to his house.

There were cars on the side of the road and ambulances rushing all around the town, sirens wailing. Every time he heard them, it chilled Washington to the bone. That car could be his students, his colleagues, a child, or a family. He rubbed the steering wheel anxiously, reminding himself to thank Martha for splurging on a good car. His heart stopped when he saw to medics on the side of the road, pulling a young girl away from a wreck.

She couldn't be more than seven and was screaming, trying to crawl back to the wreck. Washington could only guess that her family was still in there. His stomach dropped and he felt sick when he saw the body bag laid out beside the car. Tears burned his throat and he sped away. That girl would have to live the rest of the rest of her life with that person being gone forever. She might blame herself.

Lord knows that's what he had done, what he still did.

It wasn't fair, he knew. She was just seven, at the most, and she had no control over what happened. She had no control over who lived or who died. He pulled himself out of his stupor in time to serve away from a giant pothole in the middle of the road, pushing away a flood of unpleasant memories of those he had lost. When he finally pulled into his garage, it was 6:20.

Martha rushed out to the house. She was dressed in a large t-shirt and sweatpants, black hair thrown up in a ponytail. "George!" she shouted, throwing herself at him.

"It's okay," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. He didn't know if he was saying that for her sake or his own. "We're okay." He looked up at the house, checking the damage.

Two windows were cracked and the door was hanging off its hinges. There were long scratches in the paint when branches and other objects must have hit.

Overall, they were lucky. It was minimal damage. His heart twisted when he remembered that girl, pulled away from her dead family. He felt his breath catch as he thought back to the people he had lost, the damage he had caused. It could be a lot worse.

He buried his face in Martha's curly hair. The thought of loosing her made his head spin, but they were both here. They were okay.

They would fix their damaged house. She would continue to help him leave behind a horribly unpleasant past full of unspeakable mistakes.

They would continue with their lives.

They were lucky.


	17. Chapter 17

Jefferson slipped off his coat, draping it gingerly on the coat rack. "Nice place," he commented sarcastically as John and Alex slipped in behind him, followed by Herc and Laf.

"Not all of us have money being fed to us from daddy's pocket," Alex snapped.

Jefferson shrugged, looking around. "It could not have been more obvious."

John bristled, taking hold of Alex's arm. "Sorry to our apartment doesn't fit your high expectations. We don't have any servants either." Jefferson brushed his hair back, glaring at them but, Alex noticed, his gaze softened considerably when Lafayette stepped into his view.

They weren't in the best shape, wearing a makeshift bandage around their wrist and a large bandaid on their forehead when they had been hit with glass from the broken windshield. They insisted they were alright despite everyone fawning over them non stop, insisting they were more annoying than anything else.  
Herc slid by, taking Laf's arm and leading them to the couch. "I'm fine," they insisted. "Don't baby me."

"You scared us earlier, with the car," Herc said. "Just get your ass some rest, I swear you are impossible." There was no denying the affection in his words.

"You too then. You didn't sleep last night, working on that dress."  
Herc sighed sitting next to them and letting Laf lean against him.

"I really appreciate this, guys," he said, grinning at the boys who were settling on chairs opposite them.

"We owed you," John reminded. "It's no trouble."

"I don't believe I've heard the story," Jefferson drawled from his place leaning against the wall.

"We're aware," Alex said, not sparing him a glance. "We also plan on keeping it that way."

Jefferson sighed, running a hand through his hair. "No need to be rude. I'm just curious."

John turned around, glaring at him. "Why are you still here, again? We've established that everyone's alright."

"It's a...charming little place. It would be a shame to leave so soon."

"It really wouldn't be," Alex snapped. "Shouldn't you be running home your father? He might be worried."

Jefferson froze, eyes fixed on a point behind Alex's head. "He doesn't care."

"Sure," Alex scoffed, encouraged by the fact he had hit an obviously tender area. "You're the precious little heir to the name. He wouldn't risk that being bruised."

"Shut up, Hamilton."

Alex tutted. "Touchy subject? It's not like you agree with every word he says, is it? Oh, wait. You do."

"Alex," Lafayette warned, standing up. Herc pulled them back down.

"And another thing," Alex continued, oblivious to literally everyone's warnings, "you're his little bitch. You agree with everything. You support everything he says, you base your opinions and views off of his-"

"- I'll say it again," Jefferson started, "shut-"

"-do you have anything of your own? His money, his name, his views. Are you even your own person or are you a carbon copy of him?"

Jefferson took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "You don't know me well enough to say that," he growled.

"Maybe it's because you're such a god awful person that I don't want to know you," Alex retaliated.

"Alex," John said firmly. Alex ignored him.

"I mean it. I don't know what's worse, forming your father's opinions yourself or taking them without question."

Jefferson clenched his fists, rage bubbling up inside him. "You don't have the grounds to make projections like that. I fought King and Seabury on the grounds of transphobia. My father would have fought alongside them."

Alex scoffed. "You fought because Laf was involved. If they hadn't been, where would you have stood?"

Jefferson looked ready to kill someone. His face was livid, eyes murderous. "I'd stand on the side that calls for equality."

"Sure. And on abortions? On gun control? What side are you on there?"

Every instinct, every sense was telling him to repeat his father's views. The result of hours and hours of practice repeating the words to his father. Maybe Hamilton was right. Maybe he was no better that his father. The thought felt like a noose around his neck. Everyone was watching him. Hamilton with hatred, Laurens with a mix of disgust and pity, Herc with confusion, and Laf was sadness and concern. "I am not my father," he choked out, before grabbing his jacket and rushing out the door into the rain.

"Thomas!" Laf called, rocketing up from the couch as the door slammed behind Jefferson.

The rain pounded on his back and neck. It was early in the day but it felt like night had come early. The sky was dark and gloomy. His outrageously expensive watch read 8:49. He wanted nothing more than to disappear, to stop existing just for a moment. The door of the apartment opened and Thomas turned and ran. He often did this, running from his problems. He was good at it, worryingly so. He father told him he would make a good politician.  
His father. Thomas ran faster, as if he could outrun the truth, that he was simply a copy of his father.

He was a clone without his own opinions. But that was lie, he tried to tell himself. He believed in control over your own body, he believed in control over firearms- to an extent- and he certainly believed in using restrooms that correlate with gender identity. He wasn't his father. He wasn't his father.

He wasn't his father. Thomas slowed to a walk. His wasn't his father. Looking around, he realized he was in the park right off campus, surrounded by trees and bushes that could keep him dry for the time being. He collapsed under a large tree, putting his head in his hands. He was not his father.

He didn't know how long he sat there, shivering in his soaked clothing, but he jerked up when a hand hesitantly touched his shoulder. Panic flooded him for a moment, worried that it might be his father come to hurt him verbally or physically. No. Instead it was the boy he sat next to on pre-law. Madison?

"Thomas Jefferson, right?" Madison asked hesitantly, as if he was worried Thomas might snap at him.

Thomas nodded mutely.

"You probably don't remember me," the boy continued. "James Madison."

James, right. Thomas smiled, too emotionally done to lay his southern charm on. "Hi," he said. "Why are you out here? You're, like, always sick."

James smiled awkwardly. "I'm an idiot, that's why."

"You shouldn't be out."

"Neither should you," he countered. "You're crying."

Thomas brought a hand to his eye, surprised to feel tears. "I suppose so," he said softly. "I didn't realize."

"You're soaking wet, that's probably why. My dorm is just over there, my roommate's gone. You can come in and dry off, if you want."

"I don't want to impose."

James sighed and rolled his eyes. "It's not imposing. I invited you...if you don't want to, don't feel obligated."

Thomas felt a little bad for the boy. As far as he knew, he hadn't made any friends yet. "Sure," he decided. "I'd love that. Who's your roommate?"

"Aaron Burr. Really?" James asked in disbelief. He turned away as a series of coughs racked his body.

Thomas waited until he took a steady breath and turned back to him. He shrugged. "Why not? You seem nice and it's cold out here." He flashed a little smile at James, starting to feel better.

It was 7:03 by the time they got into James dorm. It was organized. Both beds were nearly made and the floor was clean. In the other room, there was a little kitchen, also clean. James looked around, a little embarrassed. "It's not much," he said softly.

"It's cute." Thomas's heart stuttered when he saw a pride flag hanging above one of the beds. He realized it was James' when he dumped his jacket on to it.

James saw where he was looking. "Oh," he said quietly. "Do you...you know...?"

Thomas shook his head. "I don't give a shit if you're gay," he said, keeping his voice light. "I'm bisexual so, I mean, of course I don't have a problem."

James' eyes widened. "Really? I just thought that...your father...I, sorry," he stuttered. "I should just stop talking, should I?"

Thomas laughed softly. "It's fine. I honestly don't know why I told you that but, whatever. I can't tell my father cause...yeah." He looked away awkwardly.

"May I inquire as to why you were sitting under a tree crying?"

"A multitude of reason. A few being about family, a few being about friends. Mainly about my father."

"About coming out to your father?" James asked. Immediately, he looked down. "Sorry, you don't need to tell me"

Thomas nodded. "I'm not going to bite your head off. Relax. Also, yeah. A bit about that."

"You should," James said softly. "Tell him, I mean. If you're ready, that is. If something goes wrong, Aaron's planning to move out anyways after his girlfriend breaks up with her boyfriend."

"What?" Thomas asked. "She's cheating?"

James sighed. "It's a bad relationship. Point is, you can move in if you want. If something goes wrong, that is. Or if you want to tell him. You don't have to. I just thought-"

"Calm down," Thomas soothed. "Remember, I'm not going to bite your head off. I've been thinking about it for a while anyways. Problem is, he'd demand proof. Like, having a boyfriend level proof."

James blushed. "You can tell him we're dating," he chanced.

"Really?" Thomas asked, surprised. "We literally just met. Well, we sit next to each other but that's beside the point."

James shoved him playfully. "We don't have to actually be dating. Just tell him we are and if he wants to meet me, then I'm cool with it."

Thomas thought for a second. "That might actually work," he mused. "Thank you so much. Usually people don't like me, because of my dad. You're actually one of the first to give me a chance."

James smiled almost pityingly but it didn't make Thomas want to yell at him. He hated being the subject of pity, especially from people he didn't know, but there was something endearing about James Madison. He checked his watch. 7:13. "Okay," Thomas said, feeling nerves fill him. "We're doing this."

James risked a touch on his shoulder. When Thomas didn't shrug it off, he kept his hand there, moving closer and Thomas dialed. "Good luck," he murmured.

"Thomas?" his father's secretary said. "Why are you calling?"

"Simcoe?" Thomas said. "Hi. I need to speak with my father immediately. Everything's okay but it is urgent."

"Of course," he said. "One moment." There was muffled talking for a moment that neither of them could make out. The phone beeped and his father's voice sounded.

"Thomas."

Thomas' mouth went dry. "Father."

"I'm busy. Make it quick."

James gripped his shoulder. "Go on," he prompted.

"Father, the reason I'm calling is I...I..."

"Did you get a girl pregnant?" His father sounded horrified. "Thomas-"

"No!" Thomas snapped. "I'm bisexual." There. His father was silent.

"No, you aren't."

Thomas swallowed, casting a glance at James. "I have a boyfriend." His voice broke halfway through the word 'boyfriend'.

"What?"

Thomas swallowed again. "I have a boyfriend."

"Who?"

"James Madison."

His father sighed in disbelief. "Alright. Thomas, I'm very, very disappointed. I think I've known for a while. Bring him for dinner in three days. We'll discuss your future later. You're lucky I even want to see you."

"Thank you, father," Thomas said, swallowing bile. "You're very kind." He hung up before Senator Jefferson could say another word, anxiously looking over at James. "That went better than I thought it would." He let out a hollow laugh. "I actually did it."

James' hand was warm and comforting. "Are you alright? You're crying again."

Once more, Thomas hadn't even noticed. He didn't move. It felt like he couldn't move. His entire body started shaking without his consent and suddenly he was sobbing. He hadn't cried like this in so long. He couldn't remember the last time in fact, but that didn't matter because suddenly James had wrapped an arm around him and was holding him close to his chest, letting his tears soak the front of his shirt.

"It's alright," he murmured. "It's alright. Let it out."

They stayed like that for several minutes while Thomas regained control of himself. "Sorry," he sniffed, pulling away. "That doesn't usually happen."

"Don't apologize," James said softly. "Crying can be the best remedy sometimes."

Thomas gave him a watery smile. "You've been so kind," he said. "It's...unusual, to say the least."

James shrugged. "I don't think basing people off their parents is the correct way to go about things. I was raised to be kind. Also," he said, blushing, "I feel like we could grow to be friends."

"Is that so?" Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows. 

"If you want to. I mean, we're fake-dating. We can't hate each other."

A slow smile crept across Thomas's face. "I'd like that."

And, thus, the first of the walls surrounding Thomas Jefferson's heart started to crumble.

 


	18. Chapter 18

The day passed leisurely. No one did anything of importance, no one even went outside as the rain had not let up. Back at the apartment, John glanced over at Alex, who was looking off into the distance, a blanket around his shoulders. He was gazing towards the window, watching the rain pound down. "Alex?"

Alex flinched out of his stupor, glancing over at John with a wane smile. "Yeah?"

"You should try and sleep," John said softly. "You don't look well."

"I'm fine," Alex insisted. "It's not even seven at night."

John rolled his eyes, standing to move behind Alex. "Not a request," he said firmly and Alex felt heart rise in his chest when John's breath brushed the back on his neck.

"I'm fine."

"Like hell," John said. "Try and rest for an hour or so. You look dead on your feet." He pulled Alex up.

"I hate you," Alex muttered.  
John laughed softly. "You love me," he said, instantly regretting the words. It was silent for half a second before Alex rolled his eyes.

"In your dreams," he replied, hoping John couldn't see the blush that was burning him up. He walked towards his room, shutting the door behind him and sinking down into his bed. What if he had just kissed John? What if he told him that he loved him? _No. No._

_No. Not yet.  
_

_Not yet._

John sighed, sitting back down on his chair. Laf smirked at him knowing while Herc watched him with sad and understanding eyes.

"Alex, huh?" Laf said, keeping their voice down to a whisper.

"Shut up," John muttered, embarrassed.

"It was pretty obvious."

"How long?" Herc asked.

John shrugged. "I don't know." It was true. He had the realization but he had a feeling that wasn't the beginning of his feelings for a certain Caribbean immigrant.

Laf narrowed their eyes. "Are you planning to make a move?"

"No." _But, fuck, I want to_. "He's all yours, Laf." John didn't miss the way Herc flinched as if slapped at the words. Hurt illuminated his dark eyes.

Laf shrugged, picking at their sleeve. "I don't know."

John tilted his head. "What?"

"I don't think I'm his type."

"Why? I'm sure he'd be in to you." Every word was a punch to John's heart, a hammer hitting it as hard is it could. Every word was painful.

"You think so?" Laf asked.

"I'm sure, Laf. Who wouldn't want you?" Herc said. His eyes were miserable, hurt. "He'd be an idiot not to."

Laf sighed. "I'm not sure..."

"You should go for it," John promoted. Maybe Laf could destroy the chance of them ever being together and John could move on with his life. "Really."

"Maybe. John," Laf leaned forward, taking John's hand in theirs, "if you want him, I'd feel like hell for taking him. Please, be honest with me. Do you want him?"

John held his breath, throat burning with emotion. "No," he said with a false smile. "It would be nice but he's not into me. I've seen how similar the two of you are. You'll be great together. Honest."

Over Laf's shoulder, Herc was watching him with a sad, knowing expression. Of course Herc would know what it felt like.  
Herc's heart ached. The pain of unrequited love was terrible, and he should know. He'd lived with that pain for years and now he was watching Laf fall victim to a short boy with a creole accent who was certainly in love with someone else. This would only end in heartbreak and tears. 

"Are you one hundred percent sure, mon amie?" Laf asked worriedly, their eyes scanning John's face.

John smiled, patting Laf's hand. "One hundred percent." A lie but Laf couldn't tell. Their face lit up as they sat back.

"Thank you, John. I...I still feel off about it," they confessed. "If you like him, why won't you make a move?"

John's heart broke a little. "I'm not his type."

"John," Herc started. His phone rang. "Oh shit," he muttered. "It's Angie. I have to get this."

"Oh," John said. "Feel free."

"Yo," Herc answered.  
Angelica Schuyler's annoyed voice sounded in his ear. " _We were supposed to have a fitting for the dress. I'm at your apartment with Liza and Pegs. It's really messed up. Where the fuck are you?_ "

"Sorry, Ange," Herc grinned, flashing a look at Laf. "We're at a friend's. The apartment got kinda battered so we're staying here for a while."

She sighed. " _You should have told me. You two are alright, right? Eliza wants to know who you're staying with."_

"We're fine. Tell Eliza to stop being a mom, it's Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens' place. Laf told you about them."

" _Give me the-_ " sounded in the background in muffled and fuzzy noises. Herc heard the distinct sound of the phone being dropped. " _Shit_!" someone said. The phone was picked up. " _It's Peggy,_ " she said. " _Herc, why didn't you tell us? Liza was frantic when she saw the state of the place."_

"Liza gets worried easily," Herc observed. "It's not really a new thing. Who all is there?"

" _Us three and Maria_ ," Peggy said. " _Angie isn't happy._ "

John waved, getting Herc's attention. "Invite them to come over. It's cool."

"You sure?" Herc asked, covering up the phone. "They can be a handful."

John laughed. "No more than Alex is, surely?"

"Don't bet on it," Laf said and John's eyes widened.

"They can't be," he said. "Worse than Alex? Really? Oh well, tell them that they are welcome here."

Herc nodded and repeated the statement, including the address. He was met with quick agreement from the four girls before a quick goodbye. "Boy," he said, setting the phone down. "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into."

John smiled, a little worried. "I'll wake up Alex." He stood, stretching, and walked off towards Alex's room and rapped on the door. "Alex?" No answer. John pushed the door open and hesitantly walked inside. "Alexander."

Alex was curled under his blankets, face buried in his pillow and blankets surrounding him. He snuffled and rolled over. John's heart melted. He sat on the edge of the bed, carefully reaching out and touching Alex's shoulder. "Alex," he murmured. "Come on." As if those words had woken him, Alex blinked sleepy eyes up at John.

"No," he muttered, rolling over.

John laughed. "Move your short ass. People are coming over."

"Who?"

"The Schuyler sisters, apparently. Laf told us a bit about them. They're on their way now so get up."

"It's warm here. I'm tired," Alex complained.

John shook his head disbelievingly. "If you slept at night, you might not be exhausted. Regardless, you have to get up now."

Alex groaned reluctantly and sat up, shivering as he left the warmth of his blankets behind. "I'm hungry," he complained.

"You're impossible." John huffed and shook his head. "Come on. I'll make food."

Alex yawned. "That means you'll heat up old pizza."

"It's that or nothing," John pointed out.

"Pizza it is," Alex sighed, following John out of the room.

Nearly ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Excitedly, Laf rushed to the door, opened it, and three girls tumbled in. All three, Alex noted, were rather pretty. Two had curly, dark hair and darker skin. The other was pale with long, straight, black hair tumbling down her back.

"Hi," the tallest girl with curly hair said, aiming the words at Alex. She was dressed in a pink t-shirt and jeans. She was tall, pretty, and a little intimidating. John didn't miss how Alex ran his eyes up and down her once or twice. "I'm Angelica."

"Eliza," the one with straight hair said. She wore a little blue dress with black tights. She flashed them a beautiful smile. John saw a little blush rising in his cheeks and felt a little punch in the stomach

"And Peggy," the shortest said. She was dressed in loose yellow sweater tucked into high waisted jeans. She smiled at them too, happy and a little mischievous.

"The Schuyler sisters," Laf introduced happily. They turned to Eliza. "Where's Maria?"

Eliza shrugged, looking behind her. "She's in her own car. She's running a little behind." Her eyes flickered between John and Alex. Her next words were directed towards them. "Which one of you is John?" she asked. 

"John," Alex said, gesturing to himself.

John grinned, elbowing him sharply. "I'm John. That's Alex. It's nice to meet you. You three have been mentioned a few times."

"As have you," Angelica commented, shutting the door. "Liza, text your girlfriend. Honestly, did she get lost?"

Eliza laughed. "Probably."  
"You have a girlfriend?" John asked before he could stop himself. Peggy and Angelica both glared at him. 

"Is there a problem?" Peggy asked, hackles up, ready to defend her sister.

John's eyes widened. "No! Sorry, I'm from the South. It's still kinda odd having people be so open about their sexualities. I'm gay."

Eliza laughed. "It's fine. I'm generally an open person. She's not my girlfriend, but the way. We're just good friends." She gave him a kind smile, even though Angelica still watched him with a dangerous look.

"Friends who are in love," Peggy coughed.

Eliza glared at her, or, as close as she could get to a glare with those soft eyes. "She was in a...a bad- really bad- relationship before. Not long ago. We're helping her get through it."

"That's terrible," Alex murmured.

John gave a sad grin. "Why don't you come up, I know it's not a great place." He awkwardly gestured behind him. Alex laughed at him endearingly.

"John's a little awkward," he said. "Come on up."

Eliza, who was texting, glanced up at him with a polite nod and followed her sisters up where they all sat on the little couch, practically on top of each other. Peggy was practically sitting on the arm of the couch, glaring at Angelica who was taking up space at her leisure with long legs and an air of carelessness. "So..."

Peggy started awkwardly. "Hi."

Angelica smirked over at her. "Tell us about yourselves."

Herc nudged Alex. "Intimidating, isn't she?" he said, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

"Thank you," Angelica said sweetly. "I try to be."

"It's working," Herc told her.  
Angelica batted her eyes before turning back to Alex. "Just curious, what's your accent?"

Alex looked taken aback. "What?"

"You're hiding it well but there's still a bit. Where's your family from?"

"Unimportant. I'm destined for bigger things here."

John watched them back and forth. She was obviously intelligent, obviously gorgeous, and obviously quick witted. Exactly Alex's type so even if he wasn't into Laf, John could still be in danger of loosing him to this girl. Truthfully, John wouldn't blame him should he pursue Angelica. If he was straight, he would too. He also didn't miss how Alex watched Eliza from the corner of his eyes.

"John?" John snapped out of his daze with a jolt.

"Sorry, what?" he asked, trying not to sound disoriented.

Eliza smiled kindly. She did that a lot, John observed, and he hadn't yet seen her get annoyed with anything yet, not even Alex. "You lived in the south? How hard was it there?"

"Crappy. My dad's, well, Senator Laurens, he's very conservative so you can only imagine how well me being gay went over." He shivered at the memory and Alex wrapped an arm around him. His heart sped up and he prayed his wasn't blushing.

Eliza made a noise of sympathy. "I'm sorry. That really, really sucks. We- I'm lucky, I suppose. My parents are very accepting... my whole family is." She squeezed Angelica's hand.

John smiled. The girls made his heart ache for his sisters whom he had left behind over a month ago. He hoped they were alright and he hoped they weren't missing him. He didn't plan on going back anytime soon. "Yeah," he said softly. The doorbell rang again and Eliza rushed to answer it.

Maria, it turned out, was jaw dropping. She had curves that were an artists dream- small waist and perfectly proportioned body. Despite how artistically pleasing her body was, her face was better. She was painfully beautiful. Her curly brown hair was lobbed off to a little above her shoulder and her red crop-top was a perfect match for her darker skin tone. Her eye were wary and tense- until they traveled to Eliza, who put an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey," she said softly, and John felt his heart stop. He knew the reasons behind the slow and careful actions. He noticed how Maria's eyes moved across the room nervously. These actions were a reflection of himself, a result of physical abuse.

Maria smiled, looking more relaxed next to Eliza. "Hi," she introduced. "I'm Maria."

John returned her smile, carefully holding out a hand. "John Laurens," he said, trying to make himself appear as nonthreatening as possible. She regarded with suspicion for a second before taking his hand.

"Alex," Alex said, replacing John's hand with his own. John glared at him, trying to make him pick up on his slow and careful movements. Alex, being Alex, didn't notice and Maria flinched back, looking uncomfortable.

"Why don't we go sit down?" Eliza offered, carefully removing Maria form the situation. "My sisters, Laf, and Herc are waiting upstairs."

Maria nodded. "That would be nice." She hurried up the stairs and wedged herself in the space Peggy and Angelica had cleared, looking far more comfortable.

"Hey Laf, Herc."

"Miss Maria Lewis," Herc said, with a laugh. "How are you?"

She shrugged. "Better."

"Glad to here it. I don't need to kill anyone yet, do I?"

She shook her head. "The case is still in the works. If he comes after us, you have my permission, even though I'm sure Angelica could do it better."

"Thanks, love," Angelica said.  
Maria laughed and it melted everyone's hearts. It was a loud, throaty sound that sounded as if it was not used very often, which was a shame. It was beautiful.

"You have such a nice laugh," Lafayette said. "Really." They picked with their nails.

Maria blushed. "Thanks."

"So," Alex said, seeming to start to pick up on the quiet and calm atmosphere, "tell us a little about yourself. Where do you go to school?"

"The college uptown. I study engineering with a minor in art."

"Art?" John asked. "I wanted to major in art but I wasn't allowed. What's your specialty?"

She shrugged, smiling over at him. "Charcoal, I guess. Yours?"

"Paint. That's so cool. I couldn't never get the hang of charcoal."

"I could never get the hang of paint. Blending sucks."

"I can teach you," John offered.

"That would be nice," she said, face brightening. "If it's no trouble," she added.

"None at all," John assured.

Eliza watched on in surprise. Maria didn't trust easily, not after James Reynolds- her ex- had landed in her a hospital on life support. Eliza shivered, remembering how scary those nights had been, unsure of she would make it through the next hour. Beside the point, she trusted John, it would appear. It was incredible. Peggy nudged her, clearly thinking the same thing while Angelica fiddled with her top.

If Maria trusted John, that was good enough for her. Perhaps they could grow to be friends. The boys seemed nice and interesting. She had seen how Alex had answered when Angelica asked about his background. His hands had started fidgeting, he looked askance. That didn't matter.

Her watch read 7:22 and this was the happiest and most comfortable she had seen Maria with a person outside Herc, Laf, and the sisters in a long time.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! The next will be longer.

George arrived at school early, as usual. A day had passed since that of the storm and the campus had been deemed safe enough for students and staff to return despite it being covered with rubble and upturned plants. The area was littered with sticks and torn up bushes and the window and light in the library were still busted. It could have been worse, George reminded himself. They were lucky.

He had hardly sat down and pulled out the days lesson plan when a knock interrupted him. He checked his watch- a present from his wife. 6:40am. He stood up and opened the door, surprised to see Lafayette standing there, clad in a loose blouse and black pants, and carrying their backpack.

"Lafayette," George said pleasantly. "How are you?"

"So sorry to bother you, sir, but I need to speak with you." They glanced down, almost embarrassed.

George ushered them in. "It's no problem, you can speak with me about anything."

"Thank you, sir." They sat down on a chair by George's desk. "I'm sorry I missed your class."

"You had every reason not to want to come back," George said kindly. "You are not in any trouble. Has Hamilton told you? I've spoken to the board about King and Seabury."

"He has. Thank you, sir." They still looked uncomfortable, fiddling with their hands. They seemed very on edge.

George tented his hands, peering over at Lafayette with mild concern. "What's the matter? Has something else happened?"

"Sir, as you may have been told, I moved to America on my own, knowing very little English. I was taught by a tailor's apprentice called Hercules Mulligan, and Thomas Jefferson."

"I know," he said softly. "Your previous teachers told me. They said you were very bright if not a little insecure. Has something happened?"

Lafayette sighed, brushing their hair back. One to their hands was in a brace. "My parents kicked me out because I came out to them as non binary. I've faced this sort of discrimination and such for years but...I'm sorry." They took a deep breath, biting their lip, gathering themself. "Sorry."

"Take as long as you need."

They smiled, almost mournfully. "It got a little better after I moved here. Anyways, I received a message from the user @Youll_Be_Back on every social media account I have. Tumblr, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter. All of them say stuff along the same lines." They took out their phone, scrolling for a minute before reading the messages. "Here. "Go back to France, you filthy faggot", "die in a hole", "you fucking special snowflake", and "you just want attention, you fucking piece of shit"." Their voice broke and they looked away.

George held out his hand. Lafayette set the phone in his palm. He blinked, scanning the messages again, as if checking if they were real and trying to convince himself that they weren't. "My god," he said quietly.

"It doesn't bother me that much," Lafayette said quietly, not meeting his eye. George raised a disbelieving eyebrow. 

"It doesn't?" They shook their head. "Well, it bothers me. Block them, report them. I'll investigate King and Seabury."

"Okay," Lafayette said quietly, taking the phone back. "I'm sorry if it was a waste of your time. I didn't want to tell my friends or they'd do something irrational and end up getting suspended."

"That was a good call," George said with a chuckle. "Don't worry. You didn't waste my time, I like to help students."

Lafayette cracked a little smile. It shone brighter than the sun. "I'd also like to thank you for being so open to using my pronouns. I remember one to my teachers forcing me to use male ones because it was to hard for her to understand how a person can be neither male nor female."

"I try to stay informed. I'm sorry you had to go through that. Was she at least a decent teacher?"

"Not at all, sir," Lafayette said with a smile. "One to the worst I ever had. It's so much nicer here, where there are non gendered pronouns. In France, we only had female and male ones. I always used male ones."

George patted their arm sympathetically. "I try and be open and flexible with pronouns. Your generation is revolutionizing gender. Do you want to know something?" They nodded. "Actually..." he hesitated. "I shouldn't tell you this."

"Please, sir."

George sighed, giving in to those questioning brown eyes. "When I was starting my teaching career, I had a student. Extremely gifted in debate and writing. Her name was Riley and she was Transgender. I...we, the teachers, didn't know that. She never told us, never brought it up. She always used male pronouns, dressed in more traditionally masculine clothing. One day changed everything. She started smoking, drinking, partying. We found out that it was to distract her from dysphoria, from internalized transphobia, but we found out too late." Lafayette made a noise of sympathy. "She started failing every single class she took, started to self harm. Professor Tallmage came to me about it, said he was worried. We approached her one day, asked if everything was alright. She broke, told us everything. We told her to go home, get rest and we'd sort everything out tomorrow, but-" George cleared his throat, looking away. Memories swallowed him. "But the next day, she didn't come to school."

"Oh god," Lafayette said softly, covering their mouth. They knew where this was going and it struck a chord in them.

George closed his eyes, prepping himself. "She killed herself." He cleared his throat, looking away. "And for the longest time, I stewed in my own guilt and anger because all I could think was that I could have done something. I could have noticed sooner. Eventually my wife, Martha, pulled me away and told me that this couldn't happen again, that I needed to educate myself so that I could see the signs. So there would never be another Riley."

Lafayette ran a gentle hand across George's clenched hand. "You are an honorable man, sir."

George smiled. "You are a brilliant student. I've seen your work, your writing."

"Alexander is better," Lafayette said modestly.

He shook his head. "He is not better, he is different. Hamilton pours his heart into his work but you- and I know I should not praise a student by placing them above another- but you write from your soul. You are very sparing and delicate with words. What career do you want to pursue?"

They shrugged. "I don't know. I want to benefit this wonderful country. Of course, I miss France, the views, the people, the food, but America is where my life began."

"You'll find your calling," George said, patting their shoulder. His watch read 7:20. Class would begin soon. "I have to prepare now. Go, find your friends. You are lucky to have them and they seem to care a great deal about you."

"The care is mutual," Lafayette agreed. "Thank you for your time, sir."

"It was no trouble. You can come to me with anything you wish," George said with a smile. "It doesn't matter with what and if you get a message like that ever again, I will invest in having King and Seabury brought to justice."

"Thank you, sir." Lafayette walked out the door, smiling one last time at Washington. They sighed, looking around the hallways, students filtering in or walking slowly to lectures. They waved, seeing Alex and John walking side by side. "Alex! John!" they called.

"Hey, Laf," John greeted, grinning widely. "How are you? We didn't see you this morning."

"I'm fine," they said. "Sorry, I needed to pick up some stuff from Washington." The lie slid easily off their tongue, worryingly so. But, then again, they had told their fair share of lies over the course of many years.

"Washington's pretty awesome," Alex said with a grin. He looked over Laf's shoulder, eyes darkening. "Ah shit, King's here."

Lafayette whirled around. Sure enough, King was strutting down the hallway, looking down his nose at the other students. His hands were neatly folded, clothes ironed, not a hair out of place. He would be beautiful, Laf thought unwillingly, if not for the mad dog look in his eyes. The boy slowed to a stop in front of the three.

"If it isn't the Marquis," King drawled.

Laf raised their chin. "If it isn't the bigoted piece of trash. Shouldn't you be in the cesspool with your buddy, Seabury?"

He tutted, an outrageously innocent look on his snake like face. "That was rude, Marquis."

"I don't use that title."

King moved uncomfortably close to Lafayette, running a hand down their chest. "Really? I have some better ones for you then; faggot, snowflake, fake, attention whore. Shall I continue?"

"I think you've said enough," Alex snarled, stepping forward. John grabbed his arm warningly.

"Alex." He turned to King. "Listen, man. It's not your life, it's not your identity, it's not your business. If Laf wants to wear a dress, they can wear a dress. If they want to wear a tux, they can wear a tux. Either way, they'll look better than you do." Laf felt their heart warm with affection for their friends.

"Faggots," King spit. He turned his back on them and strutted away.

Alex let out a deep breath.  
"I should have punched him."

"Alex," Laf chided. "We can handle this without violence. Beside, I've got Washington on my side."

"You do?" came a voice from behind them. Laf grinned, knowing who it was before he showed his face.

"Hey, Thomas."

"Hey, Laf, Laurens, Hamilton."

"Why are you here?" Alex snapped.

Thomas shrugged, slinging an arm around Laf. "Cause I wanted to be. And Laf's my friend. I saw King and I was concerned."

"Well, we're fine so you can go."

"Do you make up for lack of height with bitterness and bitchiness?"

"Fuck you."

Jefferson smirked. "No thanks. Now I need to talk to Laf for a second, if you'll excuse us." He pulled Laf to the side, suddenly seeming very stressed. "I fucked up."

"What?" Laf asked, concerned.

"I told my dad," he whispered. The calm, collected facade slid straight off. "I told my dad and I have a fake boyfriend- James Madison- and he wants to meet us."

"Oh god. Thomas..."

Thomas shook his head violently. "So it's a problem, right? But that's not the biggest."

Laf felt a sick feeling rise in their stomach. "Oh my god, Thomas. What did you do? Is everything okay? Do you need help?"

Thomas bit his lip. "No. I...I think I might like James."

"What?"

"You heard me."

A slow smile split Laf's face. "Like, like like?"

"Yes!"

"Oh my fucking-"

"-shut up!" A red tinge could been seen despite the darkness of Thomas's skin. He looked away. "I hate you."

"Oh man," Laf whispered, trying to not laugh. "Oh man, that's just too good. I can't believe it."

"Fuck you."

"Don't fuck me!" Laf said, feeling laughter bubbling in their throat. They hadn't quite laughed like this in a while.

Thomas flushed an ever deeper red. "Shut up! Why do you take pleasure in my pain?"

"It's fantastic!" Laf laughed, slapping Thomas's shoulder. They smiled contentedly. This felt like they were home.

 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited and nervous about this chapter, so here we go!!

"Why did you agree to this?" Thomas asked frantically, pacing his room. It was the day James was supposed to meet his father as his boyfriend and he was terrified.

James shrugged, straightening his tie. He was masking his anxiety well but Thomas could see traces of it scattered across his face."I don't know." He looked good. So good, in fact, Thomas was a little worried. He was wearing a pair of dress pants and a dress shirt with a blue tie. His jacket, a light grey, was hanging by the door.

Thomas sighed, brushing hair hair back, contemplating whether or not he should put it up. "Do you regret it?"

"No," James said honestly. "It's totally fine. I'm just a little afraid of your dad. Also, I'm lucky I'm not sick this week. Leave your hair down."

Thonas set the hairtie aside."A miracle. My father is not a great person but just stay away from politics and stuff and we'll be fine. We met...four weeks ago before school but got partnered together for a project. How's that?"

James thought for a second. "Four weeks. Partners for a project. Got it."

"Alright. I don't have my car, want me to call a cab?"

"Sure." James walked towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder and gazing at him for a long, silent, moment. "It'll be fine," he said softly, eyes calm and sure. "We'll be fine."

Thomas exhaled, releasing the tension from his shoulders. "Thanks. I know but...it's just, what if something goes wrong? I don't want you to see that, to think less of me."

"I won't think less of you. Promise."

"Thank you." The clock behind James read 7:56pm. "I should go make that call."

"Of course."

Nearly twent minutes later, they pulled up in front of a large house. Well, they didn't pull up to the door, but to the large gate in front of the Jefferson residence. Thomas got out, scanned a card he had pulled from his pocket, and climbed back into the car. The gate, with a slow deliberation, opened to allow the car passage. It closed behind them with deadly finality.

"Wow," James breathed. "Thomas, this is incredible."

Thomas fidgeted uncomfortably. "I didn't want to come back here."

James patted his hand.  
"It's just your father then?" he asked as the cab stopped again, this time at the stairwell leading to the massive front door.

"My mother ran off to London. We don't know where she is and my father has never bothered to find here." James was the first person he had ever told that. He had even lied to Lafayette, saying there had been a messy divorce.

James took his hand gently. "I'm sorry." When Thomas shot their joined hands a questioning look, he shrugged. "Dating, remember?"

Thomas smiled, paid the driver with an extra tip, and began making his way up to the door, waiting until James was next to him to take his hand and knock. It took a moment for the doors to open but when they did, Peter Jefferson was waiting for them, clad in a blood red suit with a black tie.

He was tall and thin. His hair was neatly cut close to his scalp. His eyes were piercingly pale grey, contrasting strongly with his skin, which was dark as his son's. He gave off the air of a man who was brilliant and rich and terrible and loved every second of it. His eyes trailed over to their joined hands.

"Father," Thomas said tightly. "This is James Madison, my boyfriend. James, my father."

James awkwardly stuck out a hand. "How are you, sir?" Peter regarded it with disgust for a moment before shaking it, quickly pulling away and wiping his hand on his red suit.

"If you'll follow me," he said tightly, leading them down the hall. Thomas unconsciously squeezed James' hand.

"It's alright," James murmured. "Just breathe."

Thomas forced a smile. "Thanks."

They walked, hand in hand, until they reached the dining room. Next to him, James sucked in a gasp.

The room had a high ceiling with a crystal chandelier hanging from the centre. The walls were full of portraits, ones that looked extremely old of the Jefferson family, dating back to the American revolution. The table could hold at least twelve people and was full of foods of all kinds. Thomas sighed. His father was trying to impress, to strike fear. He lead James to a seat a few from the head so they would not need to sit next to Peter.

"This is beautiful," James breathed. Thomas squeezed his hand, feeling his father's eyes on him.

They sat down in tense silence, slowly piling food onto their plates. James seemed awkward, as if he was not sure how much to take. Thomas elbowed him. "You nervous?" he said, trying to lighten his tone.

James smiled, eyes flickering behind Thomas to his father. "Not at all."

About five minutes into the meal, Peter cleared his throat. "How long has...this...been going on?"  
"Four weeks," Thomas said. "We've been dating three four."

He nodded slowly. "Why?"

"Why?" Thomas repeated, puzzled.

Peter gestured carelessly. "Why are you dating a man?"

"Because I like him," Thomas said slowly. "Why else?"

"Watch your tone. How did you meet? James?"

James swallowed a mouthful of potato becoming replying. "We were working on a project, sir."

"What class?"

James' looked panicked for a split second. They hadn't gone over this. "History, sir. A project on the American Revolution in contrast to the French," he said without missing a beat. Thomas raised his eyebrows, impressed

"Interesting. And you are interested in Thomas?"

James nodded. "Very much, sir." His fingers brushed his leg and Thomas almost choked on his drink, shooting a glare at James who winked playfully.

Peter was silent for a moment. "Thomas, how long has your...attraction to men been going on?"

Thomas smirked over at James, suddenly very unafraid to be rude. "You know that client you had? Yeah, the one with the giant company that was sued for drug making? His son was fit as hell. That's when I realized." James suppressed a laugh, eyes twinkling.

Peter almost spat out his outrageously expensive wine. "What?"

"Yeah," Thomas said with a shrug. "There was also that other family, the one you got out of the racial profiling one. Their son was hot. Like, I have a boyfriend but damn."

James was turning red trying not to laugh. He gathered himself and gently hit Thomas on the arm. "Thanks."

Thomas looked at him in faux offense. "Love, you have not seen the abs on that boy."

"Thomas," his father said sharply. "I will not put up with this at my table."

Thomas laughed. "You invited us, knowing what we are." Any carefulness he held was gone, flying out the window. James shot him a warning look.

"Thomas Jefferson," his father snapped. "This is your last chance."

Thomas fell silent, picking at his potatoes. His hand holding the fork was shaking. This behavior would have consequences but that the same time, it felt fantastic to be honest with his father, even if he and James weren't dating. _But, God, it would be nice if we were,_ he found himself thinking.

"Thomas?" James asked hesitantly.

Thomas stood up. "I don't believe we are welcome here," he stated. "I can buy you dinner somewhere else, if you want."

James was worried and relieved at the same time. He stood too. "You sure?"

"Positive, so long as it's okay with you."

"It's perfect."

Peter stood, tall and solemn. "Thomas, I was going to ask you to behave and nothing would have to change. I cannot expect that of you anymore. From this moment onward, you are not my son. Let it be known that it is because of you that our name with end, our line will fall. You are no longer welcome in my home."

Thomas felt a stake to through his heart. He tried his best to push the pain away, to force his walls back up around his heart but they were damaged beyond repair. "I will keep that in mind," he choked. The crystal clock on the wall read 8:43 and he had been disowned. 

"Lets go," James murmured. Thomas looked lost, struck down. It broke his heart to see the boy like that, to see him so upset. _I want to kiss away his pain and hold him..._ James pushed the thought away. "Thomas, lets go."

They hurried through the halls and out into the cold night air. Thomas let out a sob, stumbling forward and James was positive he would have fallen if he had not been there, gripping his arm. "Oh God," Thomas whispered. "I knew that would happen. I shouldn't have...fuck."

James steered them down the path, holding Thomas to his side. "It's alright- not, actually, it really isn't. But you're free and you have people. Aaron will be moving out soon. You'll have a home with me."

The gate opened for them and Thomas broke free of his hold, running across the empty street into the field across the Jefferson residence. "Thomas!"  
James sped after him, worried about what he might do if given the reins. He followed his shadow, heart pounding in his chest as the darkness closed in around him. "Thomas Jefferson, stop!" he shouted and saw Thomas slow, dropping to his knees amidst the grass and dead flowers. James dropped down beside him.

"I've always been good at running away," Thomas whispered in a heartbreaking whisper. "I've never been good with standing my ground."

"That doesn't matter," James soothed. "You're alright."

"I'm not, not right now. Can we just...stay here for a little while?"

"Of course." James lay down on his back, facing the sky. "It's beautiful."

Thomas followed suite, laying his head on James' shoulder, facing him. "It really is," he said quietly.   
Neither of them spoke for a long time, just lay there, soaking up each other's body heat to resist the cold of the fall air. The only sound was the wind whispering through the grass and the occasional car horn. The stars were somewhat obscured by clouds billowing in from the East but their light peeked through, shining despite the darkness trying to cover them up.

They lay there for an hour in undisturbed silence. It felt natural, it felt comfortable. It felt...it felt like an epiphany, a realization so strong it shook the very Earth they stood on. James rolled over, turning to face Thomas. Neither of them moved back, neither of them flinched. Neither of them spoke, both in awe of the boy they were soaking in.

Thomas was gorgeous. It was something James had immediately noticed, immediately been drawn to. He was gorgeous in that sly, "and I know it" way. At first, he had struck James as another pretty face but, Lord, he was so much more than that. He was kind, compassionate, emotional, brilliant, sarcastic. James wanted to touch his face, to track every part of his body. He wanted to away all of his worries underneath the moonlit sky. Faintly, in silver light, his watch was illuminated, reading 9:50.

James, Thomas had learned, wasn't just that shy kid in the back of the class. Sure, he was beautiful and kind of totally adorable but, above all, he was kind. He gave Thomas a chance, he offered to help him come out to his dad without a second though and, now, he had offered to let him live with him. The earth didn't deserve the boy in front of him. They boy with eyes so dark and deep, you could drown in them. The boy with skin that starlight danced on, who was perfect in everyday imaginable.

Thomas mustered up every last ounce of courage in his body and whispered, "can I...can I kiss you?" James' eyes lit up like the morning sky.

"Please." The word was a whisper, a plea that Thomas was more than happy to fulfill. He moved forward, gently and tenderly connecting their lips.

The kiss was slow and soft, as if both were afraid they would break the other. It felt like the wings of a bird brushing across your face, like a warm gust of wind. It was impossibly light but touched a small part of him deep inside his body. Thomas' heart stopped beating as James deepened the kiss. This was it, this was all he had ever wanted. Thomas gasped against his lips when James' hands found his waist, pulling him closer.

"Is this okay?" James asked softly, pulling back just a bit.

"Yes," Thomas breathed. "Yes."

And suddenly, Thomas was on top of James, kissing down his neck, his jaw, his collarbones, his chest where it was exposed by his shirt. James' hands were in his hair, on his hands, his arms. They became one, one living, breathing being underneath a starlit sky. Two hearts beating as one.

James flipped them suddenly, carefully aware of their surroundings. He pressed Thomas against the ground, kissing his neck, making sure to leave marks. Thomas gasped and he hesitated.

"Don't stop," Thomas murmured, wrapping his arms around James' waist.

He happily obliged. Thomas' nails dug into his back as he kissed to the neckline of Thomas' shirt, where he sat up, sending a questioning look at the boy underneath him. Thomas nodded, giving James clear wordless consent to continue. Thomas sat up, pulling of his jacket and shirt.

Had he been as painter, James would have scrambled for a set of paint and a canvas. He wanted to paint every detail, to immortalize it. Had he been a writer, he would compose sonnets about exactly how shadows fell on his chest. Had he been a carver, this would be his greatest work but he could never capture exactly how the moonlight hit on his chest, exactly how the shadows curved and fell across his abdomen, and he could certainly never recreate the butterflies in his stomach he felt when looking at Thomas Jefferson. 

James knelt in front of Thomas, gently running a hand over his shoulders. "You are beautiful," he whispered.

Thomas kissed his cheek. "You're still wearing your shirt."

James leaned into the kiss but it was gone all too soon. He stripped of his jacket and shirt, feeling the cold air sting his chest. Thomas reached out to touch him, hesitating, as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed. "It's fine," James murmured.

Thomas smiled, breathless. James could have been carved from the sky itself. His skin was flawless and dark, his abdomen strong and smooth. Thomas touched his chest, right above his heart, feeling it beating underneath his palm, strong and steady. He leaned forward, kissing him again.

James' lips felt natural, felt like two pieces of a puzzle destined to meet. The kiss deepened, turning rough. James wound his hands in Thomas's hair, pulling him down on him. Moonlight bled down on them, covering them in a blanket of silver. All around them, the grass sang in a gentle breeze. All around them was a sea of silver, or churning, swaying grass that hid them from the street, that hid them from everyone. The trees and grass around them helped hide the gasps and moans, helped shelter them from any ears. The ground was coated in mosses and small plants, soft but dry, something Thomas ended up being extremely thankful for.

When they were done, James was stroking Thomas's hair as he lay across his chest, the discarded watch read 11:09. James sighed contently, pressing a kiss to Thomas's hair, rubbing his bare shoulder and languishing in his his skin felt, how he could feel his muscles, and the heat of his bare body against his own.

"So," Thomas said softly, reluctantly breaking the delicate silence.

James' hand stilled. "So?"

"Are we...are we dating now?"

James laughed softly. "I suppose, if you want to be."

"That would be nice," Thomas murmured.

"Then we are."

Thomas moved even closer, if that was possible. For the first time in his life, he felt like he could completely let his guard down and be himself. He pressed a sleepy kiss to James' collar. "We might want to get dressed."

"Why?"

"I'm cold. Suit yourself," Thomas pushed himself up, shrugging on his shirt and buttoning it. He pulled on his boxers and pants, tossing James' clothes at him.

"Should I call a cab?"

"We might look suspicious," James pointed out, buttoning up his shirt. Thomas snorted but didn't correct when he saw that the buttons were wrong.

"True. But if we want to get home, that's a risk we'll have to take."

James shrugged. "We can call Lafayette and they could maybe get us."

"Oh, they'd love that. I suppose that could work."

"Then let's do it," James said, standing up and stretching.

Thomas stood up, giving him a look of pain as he winced, straightening. James snorted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I hate you," Thomas muttered, kissing him.

James laughed, leaning his head on Thomas's shoulder. This felt right.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...this is about as close to smut as it gets tbh
> 
> Side note: I'm asexual so this was weird as shit to write.   
> Hope you enjoyed!


	21. Chapter 21

"HERCULES MULLIGAN!" Lafayette shouted, waving their phone.  
Herc, who was dozing off on the couch, snapped awake. "What?" he said, instantly up. "What?"  
Laf handed him their phone, smiling widely. "I can't believe this," they said, laughing. Behind them, Alex, who was curled on the chair on his computer, blinked slowly up at them but didn't speak. John had retired to his room some time ago, saying he felt a bit light headed.

Mutely, Herc read the text conversation.

_TJeff: hey  
_

_Baguette: bonjour  
_

_TJeff: this is a little weird but I need you to come pick me up  
_

_Baguette:...  
_

_Baguette: why  
_

_TJeff: I'll fill you in later  
_

_Baguette: where are you  
_

_TJeff: you know the field outside my father's house?  
_

_Baguette: THOMAS WHY  
_

_Baguette: ARE YOU OKAY_

_TJeff: can you come get me I don't think a cab would appreciate us  
_

_Baguette: us???  
_

_TJeff: James Madison and me  
_

_Baguette: WHAT THE SWEET SHIT WHY IS HE THERE  
_

_TJeff: ur an intelligent person figure it out  
_

_Baguette:...no  
_

_TJeff: yup  
_

_Baguette: I'll be there in 30  
_

_TJeff: thanks  
_

_Baguette: I want a detailed explanation  
_

_TJeff: oh fuck you_

Herc's eyes widened as he put the pieces together. "My god," he murmured, passing the phone back. "My god."

Lafayette nodded, smiling. "I know," they said. "I want to know what the hell lead up to that. Why are they in front of his house? Why with Madison?"

"We'll ask him later," Herc assured. "Lets go. Hey, Alex." Alex looked up blankly. "You mind if we pick up someone and bring them home?"

"I don't care," Alex said absently. Herc wasn't sure if he had even heard them.

"Be back soon," Laf called, slipping on their shoes.

The night air was chilly, clear, and quiet. The entire street was silent but, of course, it was past eleven on a Thursday. It was only natural for people to be asleep. Herc sighed, watching his breath hover in the air for a moment before floating off into the darkness. Laf pulled their coat tightly around them. In the moonlight, the pavement shone like silver and the street lights were misty. The trees ensnared the starlight, casting long shadows on silver streets.

Laf began walking over to their car. Their hair glowed in the soft light, their skin was kissed by silver. Herc let out a sad sigh, wanting someone he could never have. It was beyond painful and watching it happen to someone else was torture. 

John was obviously in love with Alex. How Alex and Laf reminded oblivious, he would never understand. Herc wanted to slap both of them, to tell John that Alex returned his feelings and to tell Laf how much they meant to him. For now, however, he settled at staring at Laf from the passengers seat.

The drive out to the Jefferson residence took twenty odd minutes. Neither of them spoke, just sank into the comfortable silence as they so often did. They pulled to a stop in front of the field and Laf climbed out for the car, stretching their long legs scanning the field. "Thomas," they called.

"Here," came a voice from beside them. Laf jumped as Thomas, closely followed my James Madison, emerged from the shadows.

Thomas looked...undone, for lack of better words. His hair was a mess, his lips were kiss swollen and there were marks running down his neck and exposed shoulder. His eyes were brighter than the stars and he looked uncomfortable with every step he took. 

James Madison didn't look much better. His shirt was buttoned wrong and there were marks visible even in the dark scattered across his neck and collar. His eyes watched Thomas with a kind of tenderness than melted Laf's heart. The air around the pair dripped with signs and smell of sex.

Laf snorted disbelievingly, wiping shock from their face. "A field. Honestly, Thomas, a field."

They couldn't be sure but Thomas might have blushed. "Shut up. It's not like you haven't been in less than ideal places." He took James' hand. "I don't think you've met properly. James, Lafayette. Lafayette, James."

"Hi," James said. He didn't offer a hand and Laf was rather grateful. "He's told me a bit about you."

"Nice to meet you," Laf said, offering a sincere smile. "I hope he didn't talk about me during your...time together."

James laughed. "Exactly what I'd like him to talk about during sex."

Thomas elbowed him gently, eyes locked to his face, gentle and affectionate.

"Herc is in the car. You two sit in the back and don't do anything," Laf grinned, heart warming. "Don't get the car dirty either."

Thomas nodded. "Thanks, Laf." He lead James to the car, climbing in. Herc stared at them.

"My god," he said slowly. "Of all the people, Jefferson. Of all the people, you are the one I'd least likely suspect to have gay sex in a field outside of your conservative father's house. Other than John but he doesn't count cause he's ace. But he might just be petty enough to do that. Anyways, really?"

Thomas actually cracked a smile at that. "Funny, Mulligan. Really. Just drop us at a hotel."

"Will do, Jefferson." Herc pulled away, driving down the road at a speed that was hardly legal. He turned up the music and old songs from years and years ago floated through the car, flying out to the rolled down windows, a last note that they had been here. That in this vast world, they had stood in that field and left with only notes hovering to mark their existence.

Thomas yawned, feeling the day crash down on him. And they had class tomorrow. He groaned, burying his face in James shoulder. Herc's breath caught as James looked down at him with a tender, caring look on his face, eyes glowing with affection. All Herc wanted was to be able to hold Lafayette like that, to be able to express his affection through something other than constant concern and lingering touches. He looked over that Laf.

Laf was staring out the window, the amber streetlights painted their face dark gold, shadowing their cheekbones and making their eyes impossibly multi-colored; brown, gold, and blue from car lights. They shifted, obviously lost in thought, not noticing Herc's desperate eyes.  
If he were to stop this car, right here on this road, at 11:46 on a Thursday night, and kiss Laf, what would happen? Would the world stop? Would the sky fall? Would Jesus rise again? Would King Arthur return?

Would they kiss him back?

Herc pulled into a parking lot of an open hotel, parking near the entrance. "Your stop," he said softly, pulling James out of his stupor. He blinked, looking away from Thomas, who was dozing off on his shoulder.

"Thanks," he said, shaking Thomas awake.

His eyes snapped open. "What?" he asked. "What did I miss?"

James laughed. "We're at a hotel," he said gently. He turned to Herc and Laf. "Thank you guys so much."

"It's no trouble," Laf assured.

Thomas yawned. "Night, Laf. See you in class tomorrow." He pushed open the door and climbed out, jointing hands with James as they made their way to the doors.

"They're so cute together," Laf said absentmindedly. "I'm glad Thomas is happy."

Herc picked at his sleeve, wondering what would happen if he was to tell Laf. "Yeah." His voice sounded off even to his own ears. He knew they would pick up on it.

Laf turned and looked sideways at him. "You alright?"

Herc shrugged. "Yeah." He pulled out of the parking lot, turning into the road where he sighed, feeling his heart pounding. If he didn't do it now, he didn't know when we would. "Actually, I wanted to tell you something..."

They furrowed their perfect brows. "That's odd, because I wanted to tell you something too." Herc heart just about stopped.

"You first." His voice was weird, his heart was threatening to break his chest open.

Laf turned to look at him fully, the amber lights highlighting their skin. "I think...I think I might like Alex."

Everything went black and white. The road ahead was a dark tunnel of nothingness. Laf said something else but Herc couldn't make out the words, couldn't process what Laf had just said. They thought they liked Alex. They hadn't know him for more than a month! "I figured," Herc said, forcing a smile. His voice shook, on the verge of giving way to tears.

"I think I'm gonna ask him out." They where smiling, obviously happily oblivious, and it broke Herc's heart even more.

"Go for it!" Herc encouraged. A tear rolled down his cheek, hidden by the shadows.

Years ago, Lafayette had walked into his life amidst thunder and lightening. They had strolled in and made themselves at home, made themselves a permanent fixture- a constant- in his life. They wove themself in effortlessly, as if they had always been there. Nothing changed except that Hercules was falling a little in love.

It was 11:57 and Hercules Mulligan's heart broke like glass under the weight of Lafayette's words.

Laf watched him expectantly. "What were you going to tell me?"

Herc forced a laugh. "It's nothing. I can't even remember."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Are you alright?"

_Not at all_. "Yeah." If this was what it took to keep Laf happy, so be it. He would hold the weight of one thousand worlds if it meant they would smile.

The car ride passed in silence. The music was turned down, the windows rolled up, and Laf was texting someone, the soft light shining onto their face. Herc glanced over, attempting to see who it was, despite being rather sure it was Alex. He couldn't tell as Laf shifted, the phone screen tilting away.

Herc felt another tear roll down his face against his will. He didn't move to wipe it, afraid Laf might question it, and he couldn't bear explain to they. God, all he wanted was to be happy with Laf. But he was strong. He could settle for only Laf being happy. The two of them were intersecting lines; bound to meet, if only for an instant and then begin to move further and further apart.

But Alex...he wouldn't want to date Lafayette, surely. He liked John. It was so painfully obvious, he was shocked the Laf didn't see it- or maybe they did but didn't pay it mind. That wouldn't be in character though, especially for sweet, thoughtful, giving Laf. Herc knew there was nothing as painful as watching someone you love fall in love with someone else but he would rather see Laf happy with someone else than miserable with you.

He hoped this would work out. He didn't think he could survive seeing Laf have their heart broken.

 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of this chapter could be possibly triggering for anyone with a history of suicidal thoughts/actions.

John woke up screaming.

The nightmares had disappeared for a while, either that or he just couldn't remember them. He had started to hope that, perhaps, they had just gone away, that they were a symptom of his time with his father. Turns out they weren't, apparently.

This time it had been Alex, in the midst of a war, charging in to battle with faceless men behind him, up against unfathomable odds. There was no end to the opposing side, grey faced men who's costs were soaked in scarlet blood. John was beside him, to Alex's right, fighting the impossible along side him. As far as the eye could see, the red coated monsters swarmed, their aim was deadly, felling men left and right but miraculously sparing Alex and John. Behind him, there was a scream and John turned to see Laf tumble forward. He hadn't even realized they were here. They collapsed, a bullet in their leg. Herc crouched over them protectively as people swarmed like vultures around a corpse.

When Alex screamed, the world stopped. Everything slowed down considerably, color's dulling all around him. Alex was the brightest thing in the world, the blood flowing down his chest was blazing red, soaking his shirt. John dropped beside him, tearing off his own jacket to staunch the blood but all too soon, with too little words, Alex sunk limply to the ground. His beautiful eyes were unseeing, his chest was still.

John stayed there, crouched over the corpse of his best friend in the entire world. He felt bullets in his back, in his side but he couldn't die. There was a knife in his neck and he couldn't die. There was bullet through his brain but he couldn't die.

He just wanted to die.

He just wanted to see Alex again.  
A faceless man drenched in red stood over him, wordlessly communicating the message as he raised his saber and stabbed into John's back, sending waves of pain over him.

_You can never die.  
_

_You can never see him again._

Of course he woke up screaming, as if he still felt the cutting edge of the blade, the throbbing pulse of the bullets, or the heart breaking, breath taking, terrible knowledge that he would never see Alex or Laf or Herc again.  
Alex was by his side in moment, kneeling by the bed, eyes wide and scared. "Talk to me," he demanded softly, already taking John's hand and pressing it to his steady chest.

John took a steadying breath, relief suffocating him. He clutched at Alex's chest, relishing in his heart beat "You're not dead," he whispered.

"What?" Alex whispered. "John, I'm alive. We're alive, it's okay."

"I know," John murmured. "I just...a nightmare...you were shot. I..." he trailed off, staring away from Alex at the bedside clock. 2:08 on a Saturday morning. "Am I dreaming?"

"Hey," Alex said, pulling his attention back. "Touch me. I'm real. Feel my heart. Talk to me."

John took a deep, steadying breath, letting himself run a hand across Alex's chest, again feeling his strong, steady heart. "You died," he choked. "You, Laf, and Herc. But I...I watched you die...I tried to stop it but I couldn't. God, Alex, I couldn't die. I couldn't die and I tried and I wanted to but I couldn't die." Hot tears rolled down his face. "I needed to die."

Alex moved to sit next to him on the bed, never letting go of his hand. "Herc, and Laf are fine. I'm fine. We're all alive. You don't need to die."

"But I needed to die," John said shakily. "I was shot in the head, in the chest, the side. I was cut and stabbed through the neck and I couldn't die." His hand clutched at his side as if he still felt the bullets.

Alex embraced him firmly and gently. "But you don't have to anymore. You'll never have to, not until you're old and happy." He pressed his lips together against tears forming in his own eyes. It was painfully, seeing John like this. Every time it hurt like hell.

John shifted, pulling away to face him. "I don't know what I'd do if any of you died," he said in an impossibly small voice.

"Don't worry about that," Alex soothed. "I promise I'll stay alive if you do too."

"Promise," John whispered. "It's late. We should sleep."

Alex hesitated for a moment. "Do want me to stay here?"

John wanted to yell, _"yes! Stay here, let me kiss you and, Lord have mercy, let you kiss me back. Stay here. I don't know if I can do this without you."_ But he shook his head. "I'll be fine."

A look of hurt crossed his face but he nodded. "Goodnight, John," he said softly, closing the door as he left the room.

The next morning, the world fell apart.

It was 8:39 in the morning. Lafayette had gone out to get some eggs, Herc was lazily sketching outfits in one of his many sketchbooks, cursing out anatomy. Alex was curled on the sofa, reading a huge old biography he had picked up the other day (about a revolutionary figure), and John was fiddling around on his phone. Everyone was at peace. It felt natural.

Lafayette returned at quarter to nine, handing the eggs to Herc. "Your turn to cook," they said with a grin, inspecting the dress over Herc's shoulder. "You need it to cling at the waist more."

"Great," Herc mumbled. He stood up, stretching, and setting the sketchbook down on the side table. "Who wants scrambled?"

Laf and John raised they're hands. Alex was too engrossed in his book to notice. John laughed. "He'll have scrambled."

At 8:45, Laf's phone buzzed, signaling an email. It was from Professor Washington, reading:  
_Lafayette,_  
 _The board looked into the messages and couldn't find anything tying it to King or Seabury despite the evidence. We have decided to look into the matter at later points and, should the messages return, we will be questioning and going through the suspects phone. I will keep you updated. I'm sorry I couldn't do more.  
-Professor George Washington_

Laf sighed, clicking the phone off. Of course. They ran the back of their hand across their eyes.

"You alright?" John asked, eyes sparking with concern.

They looked over at him, smiling easily. "Of course."

They ate at nine. It felt natural, it felt simple. It was as if they were always meant to meet, as if they had known each other in a past life. Perhaps they had. Alex had finally put down his book in exchange for food, picking at the eggs with an uninterested look.

"So," Laf said softly, "Alex."  
Herc head jerked up, staring wildly at them from across the room. John give him a questioning look to which he responded with a shake of the head.

"Yeah?" Alex asked.

Laf cleared their throat. "We've know each other for a while..."

"Laf?"

"...and I was wondering if you'd like to get dinner. Just the two of us. I'll pay." Laf fiddled with the chair cushion, nervously awaiting an answer, obviously nervous.

Alex blinked, surprised. He instinctively weighed the pros and cons; he wouldn't be with John but he cared about Laf, he could see himself growing to love them. But John- no. John didn't share his feelings anyhow, they didn't have a chance. With Laf, they could both be happy, they were so much alike it would be hard not to fall in love.

But John-

No. No. No.

"Sure," Alex said, grinning. "That sounds fantastic." He didn't see how John turned away from him, eyes filled with tears. He didn't see Herc's heartbroken face.

"Really?" Laf smiled. "Great! When would be good?"

"Tonight," Alex said. Laf's happiness was contagious. He couldn't help but smile despite his gut telling him that this wasn't right. "We aren't free for another week after so..."

"Tonight it is," they exclaimed. "Fantastic."

John smiled. It felt stretched and forced. It wasn't natural. "That's awesome, you two!"

"I knew it," Herc laughed, eyes full of tears. "I'm so happy for you."

Alex blushed adorably. _No_ , John reminded himself. _No_. "We haven't even gone out yet," he muttered.

"You two are perfect together," John commented. He couldn't take much more of this. He felt everything falling in around him. Judging by the look on Herc's face, they were in the same situation. He cleared his throat.

"Hey, Herc, I need some more paints. Wanna come?"

Herc gave a small, relieved smile. "Of course." He winked playfully at Alex. "Have fun you two."

When they got outside, John grabbed Herc's arm and pulled him to the side of the house, where they couldn't be seen. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed.

"John-"

"Laf and Alex? What?" His voice was verging on panic. Herc grabbed him.

"John!" John fell silent. "Listen to me," he whispered. "I know it's hard, I know... if I could change it I would in a heartbeat. I...Laf told me what they wanted to do. They really do care about him. I didn't think he'd say yes. I thought that he was too in love with you."

"Too in love with me?" John scoffed. "Please."

Herc sighed. "I'm not going to try and convince you. Look, we're together in this. I love Laf, you love Alex. We both want to see them happy so maybe- maybe we should just let them be."

"I don't want to," John whispered. "I want Alex, I don't... you want Laf, and it hurts."

Herc shushed him. "Please, I know. But you can't be loud, I don't want them to hear us. John, it's going to be alright." Pain was ripping through his body, his heart, his soul. He and Laf, he should have known it would never ever work. They were intersecting lines, touching briefly before spreading apart.

John shook his head, eyes full of tears threatening to overspill onto his cheeks. "You don't know him like I do. You don't know him. He'll be with Laf, they might be together for years- perhaps all their lives, but he'll never be satisfied with someone like them, and I don't mean that in a harsh or rude way. It's just... someone so similar to him they can line up their lives almost flawlessly. Disaster strikes, immigrating to America, surviving based on luck and intellect, braving hardship after hardship, absent parents. He'll want someone new, exciting, foreign to him."

"So what will happen?" Herc breathed, captivated by the words, the tale John was spinning.

"I don't know. A messy break up? He wouldn't cheat on them. They might stay together and just not be happy. He can't be satisfied."

Herc closed his eyes. "Fuck."

"He'll never be satisfied," John said, voice hollow. "I'll never be satisfied."

 


	23. Chapter 23

The diner Lafayette had picked was remarkable. The white washed walls arched high above them, crystal chandeliers dangling like stars hung from the ceiling. It was most certainly expensive,

Alex was aware, and he felt underdressed in fitted black pants and a suit jacket. Lafayette, of course, was as comfortable looking as ever, in a sky blue suit jacket and black pants. They had their makeup perfectly done, as always.

It was 7:23.

"You look great," Alex commented truthfully as they waited for their order to arrive.

Laf grinned. "Thanks. So do you."

"Laf, this is incredible."

"I wanted our first date to be special." They're hand inched forward, unsure if they were allowed to take Alex's.  
Alex covered their hand with his own, feeling his face grow red, along with Laf's. "You're too good for me."

Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Maria, and the Schuyler's entered, carrying three boxes of pizza and breadsticks.

"Herc," Peggy called, setting her box down. "Look alive."

Herc shot her a wane smile. "Sorry."

Eliza, ever the mother, rushed to hug him. "I'm sorry. I couldn't believe it at first." She pet his hair gently while he composed himself. Of course, upon the reveal of the date having been accepted, Herc had texted the Schuyler's as soon as he had processed it.

"I'm fine, Liza," he insisted.

"What about you, John?" Maria asked, appearing beside Eliza. She was as beautiful as ever and appeared a bit more comfortable.

John waved a hand. "I'm alive, so that's good."

Angelica sighed, marching over to Herc and delivering a sharp slap to the shoulder. Herc yelped, jumping back. "What the fuck, woman?" he shouted, but there was nothing but mild affection and annoyance behind his words.

"Get your act together, Herc," she said. "What's pining going to do?"  
John snorted, watching this tall, thin girl tower over Herc, who was twice as broad and probably twice as heavy as her. She turned to glare at him. "You're next."

"Angie," Peggy sighed, taking her sister's arm. "She's not mad at you. Some little bitch was following Eliza around when she was walking and tried to grab her. Angie broke his nose." 

"Damn," Herc whistled. "You know who?"

"Some senior," Angelica said.

"Damn."

Peggy kept talking over him. "If you want to fix anything, don't pine. Nothing happens if you pine. Look at Dean Winchester, for example. He's been pining over Cas for eight seasons now and all they've gotten is a cut "I love you" and a buttload of emotional teenage girls crying over them."

"Did you just compare us to Supernatural characters?" Herc asked incredulously.

Peggy rolled her eyes. "Would you rather me compare you to John Watson and Sherlock Holmes? John was married because neither of them made a move."

"Actually," Eliza started, stifling a laugh, "it was because-"

"-oh fuck you," Peggy grinned.

"Language," Maria chided. "You're too young to be swearing."

"Bite me."

John smiled fondly, a sharp pain in his chest. He missed his sisters and saw them in the Schuyler's and Maria. He missed them so, so much but he knew he couldn't go see them, not as long as Henry was there. "Okay," he said quietly. "Why are you guys here? I know Herc invited you but is there, like, a specific reason?"

Eliza shrugged, taking a breadstick out and chewing on it thoughtfully. "I actually don't know. Herc, why are we here?"

Herc shrugged. "Emotional support? Wanna watch something? _Not_ Disneys Hercules."

"Please?" Peggy said, doing a wonderful impression of a kicked puppy.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

  
"What do you have in mind?" Maria asked, sitting across from John and fiddling nervously with her sleeve. Eliza squeezed her wrist, grounding her.

"What about that series?" Angelica said, taking four slices of pizza and piling them on a plate. "Turn? The one about the spies?"

Herc eyed her plate with disbelief. "Can you even eat all that?"

Peggy snorted. "I've seen her eat three times that much. We'll be lucky is she doesn't take the whole pizza."

"In that case..." Herc stood and piled several slices onto his own plate. "John? You want some?"

"Sure. Cheese."  
Herc passed him a plate. "Maria? You want any?"

She tensed a little, offering a shy smile. "I'll have a cheese and a pepperoni." Eliza wrapped an arm around her.

"Maria?" Herc asked, eyes soft and worried."Are you okay?"

She smiled. "It's fine. James tried to contact me again, through Instagram. I blocked him."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," John said quietly.

"It's fine. Let's start the show."

While they were all sitting down and watching Turn, like Angelica had suggested, back at the restaurant, Alex was picking at his chicken. Laf set down their fork, watching him. "Are you alright?"

Alex looked up, smiling gently.

"Just not terribly hungry."

"Oh."

"This is amazing, Laf, it really is. I'm just...It's not you."

"It's fine." The silence between them stretched on for a considerable time. Laf took a long drink of their water. Of course this wasn't going to work out. It just wouldn't work.

"Excuse me," an elderly lady with an abundance of ugly blue eyeshadow at the table next to them said, "but are you two...dating?

Alex's eyes narrowed, his hackles raised. "Yes, actually." The words warmed Laf's heart.

She made a disgusted face. "Sinners," she hissed. "And, sir, are you wearing makeup?"

Laf looked taken aback at the undisguised hate on her face and the blatant use of male pronouns.  
"Actually," they corrected, "I use they and them pronouns. And makeup has no gender but God knows I wear it better than you do."

Alex snorted, hiding it behind his glass. "Yes. Now, ma'am, you may want to mind your own business or I might have to start making out with my date here."

"You are going to hell," she snapped, turning away, looking back at her husband, who was watching her with a empty look in his eyes.

"See you there," Laf said loudly enough for her to hear.

Alex laughed. "Shame she turned away. We could have started making out."

Laf blushed. "You would have loved that."

"True."

Happy butterflies filled Laf's stomach but there was something, something deep inside them that wasn't right. They laughed, ignoring the feeling. "How's your food?"

"It's good. Yours?"

The salad wasn't fantastic, but Laf smiled. "Delicious." Their watch read 7:56. Everything was going well.  
  
"Creepy bastard," Peggy said, finishing off her fourth slice. She stared at the screen in disbelief. "She doesn't like him. He needs to back the fuck off."

"Language," Eliza chided. She and Maria were curled on the floor in front of the couch, covered in a large, heavy blanket.

"Shut up," Angelica said. "I can't hear what they're saying."

"Just shit-talking the General again," John yawned. "They should be grateful. He won them their independence."

"They didn't know he would," Maria contradicted lightly. "They saw him as someone who was getting their sons or husbands or friends killed in battles they couldn't win."

"I agree," Eliza said immediately. 

Angelica smirked, trading knowing looks with Herc. "The General did win the war but his spies were extremely important. Let's not argue," she said.

"True." Herc nodded towards Angelica. "I'd have loved to be a spy."

"You?" Peggy asked disbelievingly.  
He looked at her indignantly.

"Hey, I wouldn't be terrible."

"I think you'd be rather good," John said.

"Thank you."  
Maria rolled her eyes, looking much more at ease. "Don't encourage him."

John sighed, leaning back into the cushions. He missed Alex, missed his eyes, the warmth of his body. He couldn't believe it at first and, in the back of his mind, he still didn't. Laf would never hurt John or Herc purposefully, so they must not have known. They must not have seen the hurt on Herc's face or the heartbreak on John's. It was hard to imagine that they were blind enough to look over the blatant sadness or distress but perhaps their feeling for Alex blinded them. Perhaps it was the same with Alex's feeling for Laf.

Alex's feelings for Laf. John knew they were there, hidden beneath layers of different emotions, but he also knew Alex couldn't stay with Laf for long- not when their backgrounds were so similar. He might grow to... _love_...Laf at some point but he would never be satisfied and this would end in tears and fire. It would burn and John hoped to God that he would be the one pulling Alex out to the flames.

They had long since left the restaurant and were strolling down a narrow street, passing closed shops and bars. Alex sighed, watching his frozen breath bang in the night air. For away, the wind carried the salty scent of the ocean to the pair. It sent a sharp pang through Alex's heart, a distant longing for John. _No_. _No_.

No. 

He could be satisfied. He could be satisfied with Laf. But it wasn't only his feeling for John but also Herc's for Laf. It was plain as day to see the utter heartbreak and betrayal when Laf had asked Alex out but, selfishly, Alex had ignored the signs, ignored the pain. He wanted and he wanted and he took and he didn't give back.

Laf sighed happily, eyes set on the fairy lights snaking up a tree. "It is lovely out," they said. "In France, walks like this one were common. Have you ever been?"

"To France? No. I would love to go someday. My mother was fluent. Taught me," Alex answered, watching his breath create soft swirls in the air. It was rather chilly out.

"One day I shall take you, _petit_ _lion_."

Alex smiled and took their hand. He felt Laf's entire body clench and then relax as he stroked his thumb over the back of their hand. "That would be amazing. I couldn't ask that of you, though."

"You don't need to ask." They had slowed in front of the tree. Laf's face was glowing gold in the light. They leaned down slightly, unsure of what to do. 

Without thinking, Alex pulled them down, crashing their lips together. He felt Laf kiss back. It wasn't soft, gentle, like how he'd imagined it with John. This was rough, hard, and needy. Alex's arms were around their shoulders, pulling their face down. He could taste the salad from earlier, could taste mint gum and soda and smelled the hairspray and floral perfume. It felt so perfect physically- like they were meant for this- but Alex felt only the smallest spark, the smallest of zaps through his body. With John, even when they touched, it was violent, it was like lightening. Beautiful and terrifying. They broke apart.

"Wow," Laf breathed, touching their lips. "I wasn't sure if you had it in you, _mon_ _petit_ _lion_."

"I'm always smashing expectations," Alex smirked, a little dazed. "That wasn't half bad."

"No," Lafayette agreed. "It certainly wasn't."

This could be the start of something beautiful or something that would end in flames. Who said it couldn't be both?

"So," Alex said with a suggestive wink, "there's a hotel down the road."

"Is that so?" Lafayette said with a knowing smile.

They didn't return to the apartment that night.

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

Maria came over at noon the day after Alex and Laf's date. To John's surprise, she came by herself, looking much more confident that she did the day before. She didn't flinch at every moving shadow or when Alex knocked over something with a resounding crash.

"I brought my charcoal," she said, setting down a massive bag. "I can teach you first, if you want."  
John grinned. "Fine with me. You want food or anything? We have hot chocolate."

She backed away, shaking her head and suddenly looking quite a bit more uncomfortable. "Sorry, I have...a thing about...unless the Schuyler's are here..."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," John apologized, realizing what she meant. "Sorry."

"It's fine. You didn't know." She smiled brightly, picking up her bag again.

"My room's over here. It's where I keep all my paints." Noticing her hesitance, he quickly added, "I can bring it out here, if it makes you more comfortable."

She shook her head, following him. "I've got to work through it. Baby steps, you know? Thank you, though."

By 12:12, they had her charcoal set up on the easel. "Who do you want to do first? Not that you have to do a person, I just find them easier."

"Maria," John said kindly. "It's fine. Don't doubt yourself so much."

She blushed, embarrassed. "Sorry. I'm a little spazzed out."

"I know how it is," John admitted gently. "It's fine."

"You know how it is?" She didn't say it doubtingly, but rather with worry and sorrow. "I'm sorry."

John shook his head. "It wasn't the same as what happened with you. My father was...not a great guy. I see a lot of my actions in you."

"I'm so sorry."

The silence that followed was mournful, not uncomfortable, and remained so until Maria broke it. "Why don't you draw Alex?"

"Alex?"

"Yeah. You like him, don't you?"

He looked around, as if Alex might be hiding behind the dresser or under the bed. "Yes," he admitted, looking away as if it was shameful. 

She bowed her head. "I know he and Laf are together now. I'm sorry."

"Can we just start?" he asked, albeit rudely. He didn't want to think about them, what they...did. She didn't meet his eyes as she handed him a pencil.

"Start with a very light outline in pencil. I use shapes and contouring makeup videos to see where the lightening and shadow should fall." She stood back, watching him start to sketch out the shape.

"Sorry that I snapped at you," John said, continuing to sketch Alex's face at a front view. "I'm just stressed and shit."

"It's fine. I know what that's like, not being with someone you...care about."

John paused. "Eliza?"

"Yeah."

"Everyone knows, Maria. Why aren't you together?" He swore quietly as the pencil skidded across Alex's nose, leaving an out-of-place line.

"Imagine what would happen if we broke up. I'd loose her, and her sisters." Maria fiddled with a paintbrush, running her fingers over the hairs. "I couldn't survive that. They're all I have"

"Touché. But you might not break up, and you can always come to Laf and Herc or me, if you needed to."

"Thank you, but I can't risk that. Besides, I don't know if I'm ready for that yet."

John nodded. "I see. That's part of the reason I'm not with...well, anybody. Too many people I cared about ended up being something I didn't want." He was silent for a minute, concentrating on his sketch. "Hey, I finished the outline."

Maria stood up and walked over beside him. "It's good," she commented. "You're extremely talented."

"Not talent. Practice." John deflected the compliment, looking at the pencil in his hands.

"Alright then," she said, not pressing. "Use the B2 pencil and start shadowing. I pulled up a contour chart. It shows where you highlight and shadow." She set her phone on the easel.

John nodded, trying to understand the various lines and shapes. "This is even more confusing," he commented, laughing a little. "But useful."

Maria smiled a little. "Yeah. Actually applying that to your face is worse. I've only full out done it a few times."

"I can only imagine."

Maria laughed softly. "You don't want to. If you're curious, ask Laf. We've done it together before. Anyways, cheekbones first."

Neither of them spoke much after that. Maria sometimes stepped up, adjusting John's grip on the charcoal, correcting his shading. She would tell him instructions and tips softly, as if afraid to speak up and break the quiet. By 12:56, John found himself nearly finished. 

"You're certainly not a natural," Maria said quietly with a smile, "but you aren't bad."

"I appreciate the honesty," John replied. He cursed, setting down the pencil. "I can't get it right."

Maria squinted at him, perplexed. "What do you mean? It looks...John, it looks fantastic."

She wasn't lying. The detail was clumsy in the hands of someone unused to the feeling but shockingly good for someone with such little experience. The shadows fell perfectly, the highlighted area were blended a bit roughly but with obvious  skill.

John shook his head. "Not his eyes." He tapped the spot with the back of the pencil. "They're so flat and unlike him."

She shook her head. "They're really good. There is emotion in them."

"Not like his. He has this...this ferociousness, this loyalty, knowledge, and hardness. This...this doesn't even slightly resemble him. He looks...mournful. Why don't we move on to painting?"

Maria understood where he was coming from. She pulled out her sketchbook. "I want to show you this." They sat down on the bed and she opened to the back of her book, flipping through a few pages.

There was a sketch of Eliza sitting on a window sill, light striking her face with such beauty and precision that John could have been convinced she was an angel. On the next pages where detailed studies of her eyes, her nose, her lips. 

"This is stunning," John breathed.

"She lets me draw her sometimes," Maria said with a fond smile. "I can't get something right. It's the smile. You've met her, you know how it looks."

"I do." Eliza's entire face lit up when she smiled. Her smile contained the warmth of the sun itself. Something impossible to put on paper.

"My goal is to get it right. I don't care how many years it takes." Maria shut the book, clearing her throat. "Let's get to painting."

John pulled out a canvas from his art bag, setting it on the easel after carefully placing his picture on the dresser. "What do you want to paint first? I'd go with simple scenery."

"The ocean," Maria said without a second thought. "Eliza likes it."

"Alright." John handed her a pencil, pulling up a picture of a wave on his phone. "Use a reference."

She took it, setting it on the easel before lightly sketching out a simple outline with astounding ease. "Good?" she asked, almost nervously.

John smiled. "You don't need my validation. Trust yourself."

"I have a hard time trusting anyone," she admitted, feeling a little anxiety in her throat. "Dunno why I took to you so quickly, to be honest."

John shrugged. "I can imagine it was for similar reasons as to why I connected to you."

She was silent for a moment, struggling internally. She hadn't told anyone but Laf, Herc, and the Schuyler's this. "He almost killed me."

Jonm didn't know how to respond. "I'm so sorry."

"I refused to go out with him. Going out meant him getting drunk and then sex. I didn't want that. I said no. He insisted. I refused and he attacked me. I was on life support for four days and in the hospital for two weeks."

"I'd hug you but I don't think you'd like that," John said sadly, wringing his hands. "I'm so sorry."

"I wouldn't, but thank you." She squirted two blues onto the pallet, mixing them a little.

John stepped forward, careful to keep a comfortable distance from her. "Don't mix them all the way. If you don't, you get multicolored streaks like seaweed. Also, add a tiny bit of green."

She nodded, adding a little green and mixing it. "Let's see how it goes."  
///  
In the room next to John's, Alex sighed, trying to push both John and Lafayette from his mind. The last night had been, well, fantastic. It had quickly become obvious that Laf was certainly not inexperienced in that field and, in all honesty, it had been enjoyable.

Now, it felt almost wrong.  
Alex didn't regret having sex with Lafayette, but, given a redo, he wouldn't have done it again. It felt manipulative, false. He didn't love Laf, not the way he should. Not the way they deserved. From the other room, he heard Maria laugh, a beautiful sound. He couldn't help but wonder if she was interested in John. Just the thought of it made his stomach churn.

He tried to block out John's muffled talking, tried to fill his head with the cons of being with him. He took out his phone, typing down half false reasons why he couldn't like John, trying to convince himself he didn't.

1) breakup is inevitable  
2) would wake you up with nightmares  
3)stupid gorgeous face  
4) you can never have sex  
5)laf likes you, John doesn't

Alex rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow. This wasn't working. He could disprove every reason in his sleep except the last one. It was plain and simple. John didn't like him. He wasn't interested. Laf was.

Laf was beautiful, intelligent, thoughtful, dramatic. They came from similar backgrounds, knew each other's lives easily despite not talking about childhood much. Alex could see himself falling for Laf. Maybe it would take years, but he could manage. Of course, Herc was an issue.

Everyone knew Herc liked Laf and, in some twisted way, Alex liked that Laf had chosen him. Laf had chosen him in a way no one ever had before, over Herc, over anyone else. Alex was choosing them over John. Herc was likable. He'd find someone quickly enough. It's not that Alex didn't feel guilty about it, but if he could live without John, Herc could live without Laf.

"One day," he murmured to himself, "I will love Laf. We can be happy. I can get over him."  
But somewhere deep inside, he knew he couldn't.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you read, keep in mind that there will be misgendering and transphobic slang and actions in this chapter.

"Lafayette, a moment after class?" Washington stood to the side, allowing students to file out the door, heading home after a long day. Laf paused, waiting by the door until the last student had left.

"Sir?" Laf asked, noticing new worry lines etched into the professor's forehead. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Washington said with a smile. "I needed to ask you a few things, that is all. I'm sorry if I am wasting any time. You seem to be in a rush."

Laf shrugged. They and Alex had a plan to meet up for a movie after school. It had been a week now and it was a little scary how much Laf enjoyed this relationship. They desperately hoped it would work. Anyways, that could wait. "Not at all, sir."

"The board finally got back to me about the messages you received a while ago."

"Really? I'd nearly forgotten about those," they said, surprised.

Washington chucked. "So you haven't received more?"

"Obviously I've gotten comments on Instagram about my appearance, but not like those," they answered honestly. "What did the board decided?"

He sighed. "Like I emailed you about, there wasn't enough evidence to pin the blame to King. We did speak to him but he denied all claims, of course."

"Of course."

"We've decided to keep an eye on him for now. If you receive any more messages, bring them to me immediately and we will further our investigation. You said you got comments on Instagram?"

Laf shrugged. "Misgendering, the usual " _boys can't wear makeup_ ", and " _you have a mental illness_ ", nothing too serious."

"Does it bother you?" Washington asked, concerned.

Laf shrugged. "I've learned to tune it out."

"You shouldn't have to. I understand that there is no way to get rid of all these people but I would suggest going through and reporting every abusive comment, unless there are too many," Washington advised.

"There are a lot of them," Laf sighed.

"More than there are positive?" 

"I'd say a little less that half are negative."

"Really?" Washington asked, surprised. "What do your friends say?" Laf looked away, not meeting his eyes. "They don't know."

They shook their head. "No."

"You can't bottle this up. You need to tell someone."

"I'm telling you."  
Washington put a gentle hand on their shoulder. "Not enough. Tell Hercules Mulligan. I've met him once or twice, he seems nice. You trust him, don't you?"

"I don't need to burden him," they said softly. Their friendship with Hercules had been strained, thinning over the past week.

"It wouldn't be a burden."

Laf shrugged, desperately wishing they could tell Herc. "He has enough going on right now. There's a dress that he's been working on for months. He's trying to put it on the runway."

"What about Alex, or John?" he suggested.

Laf shook their head. "John and I haven't spoken properly in a week or so. Alex doesn't need the weights of my burden."

"Why haven't you two spoken?"

Laf shrugged, eyes cast downward. They knew the answer but refused to think of it too much. "I think I may have made a mistake that I would rather not speak about. Our situation is like a seesaw. If I'm happy this way, he is not, and if he is, I'm not."

Washington sighed. "I'm sorry. You may go. Contact me if you receive any more messages."

"I will, sir. Thank you." Laf started

towards the door, leaving Washington to finish packing his stuff and pray that they wouldn't be the next Riley.

"Never again," he swore softly. "Not under my watch."

Perhaps it was a long buried paternal instinct, but George felt a fatherly pull towards the kid. He and Martha were incapable of children, back when a childhood illness had rendered him sterile, and they had never been sure that they even wanted one anyways. Now, it appeared, he was unconsciously taking Lafayette under his wing, making it a duty to protect them.

///

"Sorry I was late," Laf said, jogging over to Alex, where he sat on the bench outside of the theater. Their watch read 5:42pm. "Washington wanted to talk."

Alex kissed their cheek, smiling. "About what?"

"He was worried that King might be doing some shit."

"Oh." Alex nodded, narrowing his eyes. "He isn't, is he?"

Laf smiled. "I'd tell you, little lion." Guilt churned their stomach.  
Alex laughed, standing and taking their hand. "Let's go."

By the time they got seated in the theater with a bag of popcorn, soda, and various candies, it was 5:50. Laf couldn't remember what they decided to watch but they didn't care. Some high school social drama. It didn't matter. They were looking at Alex.

His eyes glowed in the dim light, the screen casting a blue glow onto his skin. Laf smiled, looking down. They knew they were in too deep and it hurt. They knew Alex wasn't there with them. They knew that between them and John, Alex would always go to John. Laf pushed that aside, taking a handful of popcorn. Their hand brushed Alex's and they jerked it back. Alex looked over at them.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine. Tired." 

Alex took their hand, squeezing it. A cloud of butterflied threatened to burst Laf open at the seams. They were swelling inside of them, pushing at the stitches that held them together. Maybe this was love.

Maybe.

They stayed like that most of the movie, only releasing each other's hands when they reached over to grab and handful of food or a drink. No one bothered them about it, like they had one the date. It was peaceful.

Alex looked away from the screen, feeling guilt press against him. How could he come to terms with the fact that he wished it was John's hand he was holding, not Laf's? How could he face the undeniable truth that he didn't love them? He did love them, but in a different way. They didn't deserve this.

"Bathroom," Alex murmured, finding himself in need of fresh air. "Be back in a second."

He stood up, carefully making his way to the illuminated exit. Once in the bathroom, he bowed his head over the sink, sighing. He had to love them. He had to give them everything they deserved. No other emotions would cloud his judgment. His watch- a watch given to him by Laf- read 6:00. It's expensive crystal face was illuminated in the white light, sending a pulse of guilt through Alex. Laf was more than he deserved.

By 6:04, Alex settled himself back down. Laf smiled over at him, squeezing his hand. "Heads up," they whispered, "whatshername in the blue shirt is trans. You missed the scene. She told the blonde chick. Vanessa? I don't know her name." They gestured at the screen, referencing the character.

"Oh cool," Alex grinned, leaning his head on their shoulder. "Representation, for once." The woman next to them shifted in her seat, coughing into her hand. Alex pulled back a little but Laf held him there.

"The bitch is a fucking tranny," a boy behind them whispered loudly to his friends. "He's a guy no matter what." Alex felt Laf flinch violently next to him, jerking as if slapped.

"Hey," he breathed, making a move for Laf's hand, an attempt at comfort. Laf flinched away so violently one would have thought Alex actually raised a harmful hand against them.

They stood, carelessly barging through the people surrounding them. They scrambled for the exit, eyes burning and heart creating a stabbing drumbeat in their chest. There was someone behind them. A boy from high school.

_"Fucking tranny!" the boy yelled, waving his fists. "You fucking tranny."  
_

_Suddenly Laf was crouching, cowering outside of the little store. They couldn't see the boys face, only his silhouette in dark moonlight. "Non," they breathed, all other words fleeing them. At this point, they still weren't quite fluent in English._ _"Non!"  
_

_"Non?" the boy mocked. "Shut up. Not in France anymore. But I wish you were. I wish your dad had fucking killed you when you came out to him as a faggot." Laf's eyes widened.  
_

_"How do you know that?"  
_

_"I overheard some teachers, fucking dumbass. You're pretty fucked up, aren't you? Even friends with that Jefferson kid. Man, he's a freak."  
_

_White hot anger coursed through their blood like fire and they rocketed up, fist firmly connecting with the boy's nose. They felt something crack under their hand, felt blood. The boy howled, jerking backwards.  
_

_"What the fuck?"  
_

_Laf bared their teeth, positioning themeself. "Don't talk about him."  
_

_"Fucking tranny! Why don't you just go kill yourself? I'm sure everyone would be happier," the boy snarled, hand clutching his broken nose._

_Laf stepped forward, readying themself. "Fuck off."  
_

_"You're a fucking boy! You are male! Your pronouns are he and him, not any other bullshit. You think you can pass as neither? Well, everyone sees you as a man. You can't change biology, bitch."  
_

_Laf swung their fist again, feeling the familiar sensation of dysphoria overwhelm them. The boy ran and Laf dropped forward, letting out a strangled sob._

_He. Him. His. Male. Boy._  
He. Him. His. Male. Boy.  
He. Him. His. Male. Boy.  
He. Him. His. Male. Boy.  
He. Him. His. Male. Boy.

_The words echoed in their head._

_He. Him. His. Male. Boy..._

"Lafayette?"

A voice cut through their flashback. A strong, steady voice, complete with strong, steady arms, pulled them back. Laf flinched out of the memory and found themself looking at Herc.

"Herc..." they breathed, looking around. Alex was standing by the wall, eyes cast downward. A clock above the bathrooms read 6:23.

"You kinda just zoned out," Herc explained. "Alex called me. He was pretty freaked out. I told him not to touch you, just leave you be until I got there. I know you do this sometimes. When you think about the past. Are you okay?"

Laf shrugged, leaning into Herc. "I don't feel well."

"As in terms of gender or physically?"

"Gender...both...I don't know."

Herc wrapped an arm around their waist. "Come on. We're going to go home. Alex!" he called. "Talk to the manager and staff about what happened. See if we can get the money back."

"Got it," Alex said. His eyes softened as they landed on Laf.

"Sorry this happened, Laf."

"Not your fault," they said softly, allowing Herc to lead them out through the lobby and to the car.

Once they pulled out of the parking lot, Herc spoke again. "How bad is it?" This was the drill.

They had been over this hundreds of times since they had met. It was natural to react and answer these questions, give number and percentages to explain what was unexplainable.

Laf offered a sad smile. "I want to rip off my skin."

"Scale of 1-10."

"Eight."

"What brought it on?"

Laf bit their lip. "Can we not talk about that until we get home?"

Herc sighed. "Of course. You want me to get ice cream?"

"Always ice cream."

"Do you want me to call Thomas? I know he helps."

Laf picked at their nails, tearing off the pale pink polish. "Yes, please."

"Got it. Go home and I'll get ice cream and pick him up. John's not home yet. Do you feel like you can take a shower?"

The thought of having to do so made Laf's heart speed up. They didn't want to see themself, know that that boy had been at least a little correct. They could never pass. "No."

"Alright. Go try and relax, alright? I'll be back in about ten minutes." He pulled up in front of the apartment. "Oh, you can wear some of my clothes. I know you've told me they help 'cause they hides you."

Laf smiled, almost on the verge of tears at the kindness and sincerity. "Thank you." They pushed open the car door and ran up to their room. A clock read 6:33. The apartment was silent.

They wandered around for a while, wrestling with their mind, trying to convince themself that they were whatever they felt like. They were not male. They were not female. They were valid. Laf sighed, making their way to Herc's room and taking out a giant sweatshirt. 

They slipped it on. It covered down to their mid thigh, making them appear smaller. In the mirror, their shoulders didn't look as big, their features looked softer. Laf smiled, feeling the sense of dysphoria fade slightly, as if blocked out by the fabric. It was almost bearable.

At 6:45, Herc opened the door, carrying four pints of various ice creams. Thomas followed behind him, eyes immediately falling to Laf, who was sitting on the couch, surrounded in blankets. He made a beeline for them, dropped down beside them.

"Hey," Thomas said, smiling gently.

Laf smiled back. "Hi."

"How is it?"

Laf shrugged. "I want to rip off my skin a little less now."

Herc smiled as he stabbed a spoon into his ice cream. "That's an improvement." He picked up the other two, leaving the extra, and carried them over. Thomas and Laf each took one.

"I guess it is," Laf said, taking a bite of the ice cream. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

Thomas set his down carefully. "Can you tell us what happened?"

They shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal."

"Apparently it was," Herc said. "If you don't want to talk about it, of course we will respect that."

They didnt speak for a moemnt. "There was a girl in the movie who was transgender. A kid behind me goes, "the bitch it a fucking tranny. He's a guy no matter what," and I just..."

Herc hand was clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. "Yeah?"

"Do either of you remember when I came back home a few years ago with blood on my hand and told you I had broken a boy's nose for insulting Thomas?"

"I do," Herc and Thomas said at the same time.

"The boy also was telling me that my father should have killed me when I told him. He was calling me a fucking tranny, telling me I was male not matter what, that my pronouns were he and him." A rush of discomfort passed over them, increasing with the recounting of the story. They stabbed the ice cream with their spoon with worrying violence.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Herc asked, eyes wide.

"I didn't want to burden you."

"You should have told us," Thomas said softly.

Laf shook their head. "I'm not sorry. I knew you freak out."

"That's why we're here. To freak out. To help you," Thomas replied, taking a spoonful of ice cream. "That's why you have to tell us these things."

Herc held out a hand to silence him. "Laf, we love you, okay? We love you and we want to make sure you're alright. But we need you to talk to us, alright? What part of your body bothers you the most right now? We're gonna get through this."

Laf closed their eyes, steadying their breathing as tears crept up on them. "My shoulders and arms."

"Why?" Thomas asked gently.

"Too masculine."

"Why is that a bad thing for you?"  
Laf glared at him. They had always hated this drill. Playing dumb, making them explain. "Cut it, Thomas. We all know why."

"Sorry," he apologized quickly.  
The three of them lapsed into uncomfortable silence before Laf finally spoke up.

"I shouldn't have snapped."

"It's fine," Thomas said softly.

"I'm just stressed. It wasn't fine."

Herc, looking up from his ice cream said, "we don't care. You're not having a good day. It's understandable."

"That doesn't make it right."

Thomas shook his head. "No it doesn't. But, you know what? I don't care. Laf, I will always forgive you."

"You shouldn't," Laf said, curling further down into their blankets.

"But I will. Always."

"We both will," Herc chimed in. "You want to watch Disney movies until we fall asleep?"

Laf laughed, eyes suddenly brighter. "What would I do without you two? Of course."

Thomas smiled, moving to sitting on one side of Laf while Herc sat on them opposite, grounding them. "I don't know," he said with a smile. "Lion king?"

"Always Lion King." Laf shifted to that they were pressed against Herc.

Here, surrounded by their friends, they almost forgot how much they hated themself. Without them, there was no doubt in their mind that they would have been dead a long time ago.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick reminder that everyone feels dysphoria differently and there is no "right" or "wrong" way to experience it. This is coming from a person who, like Lafayette, also uses they/them pronouns.


	26. Chapter 26

"About fucking time," Thomas muttered to James out of the corner of his mouth. A month or so had passed and winter break finally here. They had been studying in Washington's classroom for a research paper due at the end of break. Washington himself was rearranging his bookshelf, looking at a book about America's first president with interest.

James smiled, taking his hand. "Let's go home," he murmured.

As life would have it, Aaron Burr had moved out, but not to his girlfriends house. From what the two had heard, her boyfriend had cracked down on the rules, making breakup impossible for the time being. Aaron had been lying in wait in an apartment near theirs, making sure she was safe.

Thomas squeezed his hand, releasing it quickly as Professor Washington walked by, carrying his briefcase and several books. Washington, being the perceptive man he was, noticed and stopped, gazing over at the pair with an concerned expression. "Thomas?" he asked softly.

Thomas's heart sped up, reminded of his father the slightest bit. "Sir?" He looked over, seeing James struggling with whether or not to act to comfort Thomas.

"In my classroom, it doesn't matter who we love," he said gently, "or how we identify. Let me give you advice I wish I had taken when I was younger: when you truly care for someone, don't let go of them physically or emotionally. I was lucky enough not to loose the woman I care about and you two ought to keep each other close or you might not be. It's a hard world out there, but I want you to know this, you are always safe and welcome here."

"Thank you, sir," James said softly, reaching out to grab Thomas's hand. "I don't plan on letting go anytime soon." Thomas felt his heart melt.

_I love this boy,_ he thought. _I love this boy._

_Love._

_I love James Madison._

Washington gave them both a wise, centuries old smile. His dark eyes gleamed. "Happy Holidays, you two."

"Happy Holidays, sir," James said.

"Get home safe." Washington shot them a last glance before heading out his door and into the hall. 

James sighed happily. "He's awesome." His eyes were bright and sweet and in the artificial glow of white light and the soft red glow of the sky, his dark skin was on fire. 

_I love this boy._

Thomas could stare at him forever, would stare at him forever. At the fire on his skin, the sun in his eyes, the stars on his lip. The classroom smelled like old books and the sea, a beautiful combination. Outside, the trees were burning, the grass was golden, and in the distance, the ocean was painted in brilliant hues of reds and purples.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" James asked, tilting his head so the fire was thrown down the side of his neck as well.

"You're beautiful," Thomas murmured in awe. "My god, you are beautiful."

"Stop it," James said, embarrassed. He looked away, smiling.

Thomas shook his head, putting his hands on James's waist. "I mean it," he mused, kissing the tip of James' nose.

James laughed, pulling him into a full kiss, heavy and rough. They fit so perfectly, every part of them. Fireworks exploded behind James' eyes when he pressed his body against Thomas'. He slowly pulled away, letting the kiss linger for a minute. "We should get back to the dorm," he murmured.

"Of course," Thomas said, looking dazed. "Yeah."

At that moment, someone coughed. Both boys turned swiftly, jumping back from each other. Aaron Burr, looking as massively uncomfortable as ever, stood in the doorway. He smiled awkwardly. "Hello," he said quietly. "Don't mind me."

"Burr!" James exclaimed, smiling at the sight of his ex-dorm mate.

"We haven't spoken the a few weeks. How is everything? How's Theodosia?"

Burr smiled, eyes glowing at the mention of his girlfriend, the previous awkwardness thrown behind them. "She's fine. She's working to breakup with her boyfriend."

"Oh, good," James said. "Tell her I send her my best and I wish to meet her someday. Thomas and I ought to get going." He winked as he looked back at Thomas.

"Are you two dating?" Burr asked.

"Yeah."

He whistled. "I'm suppose I'm glad I left when I did."

"You suppose?" James scoffed playfully. "Do you even have opinions?"

"Perhaps."

"James," Thomas called. "We have to go."

"Of course," James responded. "Fantastic seeing you again."

Burr smiled. "You too. Oh, I heard we're getting a transfer into Washington's law. He's older but he's just started."

"Who?"

"A southerner named Charles Lee."

"Cool." James took Thomas' hand, obviously impatient. "We have to go. Bye, Aaron." Before he could even respond, the pair were gone.

Aaron sighed, sinking down against the nearest wall and putting his head in his hands.  
In truth, he hadn't expected there to be anyone in the classroom. It was rather late- 5:47, and winter break. He had expected to be alone, something he was good at, other than staying quiet. Other than loosing people he loved.

When Aaron was a child, his parents had died, soon followed his grandfather. Throughout his childhood, he had been passed from relative to relative, each of whom died. In his religious family, he had been called cursed, been called the devil, been called possessed. They needed an explanation for all these deaths somehow and chalking it down to Hell and Religion seemed to be the easiest thing to do. Everyone who loved him had died without explanation, without reason, and he was still searching for an answer.

Why was he alive when everyone who had ever loved him had died?  
It was a question for which he was willing to wait for an answer.

Patience is a virtue. That's what he had been taught. His mother had told him that when he was a child, when he would cry for food or for toys. _Patience is a virtue, baby,_ she would croon. When he cried for his father when he worked overtime, she would hold him and whisper, _patience is a virtue._

He had asked when she'd get better. _Patience is a virtue._ He had waited and waited and waited and she hadn't gotten better. _Patience is a virtue._

That's what he knew. Waiting was what he was good at. Thinking his way out. He was gifted with words, words he couldn't put on paper. His preferred method of escape was by speech. He would wait an hour, a day, a month, a year, to create the perfect defense, the perfect sentence. While other rushed by at the speed of light, he was waiting. He lay in wait. He was waiting for love this time. For Theodosia.

They met at a library. She had been dressed in shorts and a tank top, hair large and curly in summer heat. She asked him for help finding a good book. He lead her to Lord of The Rings, promising that she'd love it. Something had happened, Aaron couldn't remember exactly, but they went out for coffee. It was only then that she told him about her boyfriend, how she hated him but how she couldn't leave.  
Aaron Burr took his time. He waited. He thought things through. His actions were throughly calculated and timed. He wasn't one for doing things quickly but, goddamnit, he was in love with her by the end of the day.

She had said she loved him back. She had kissed him under a little overhang on the patio of a Starbucks. She had screamed for him when her boyfriend, eyes blazing, had punched him square in the jaw, almost knocking him out. She had stood behind that wretched man when he apologized, convinced that Aaron was simply her cousin, not a threat to their relationship. She had convinced him.

Aaron shook away the memories. He needed to get home. The sky was steadily darkening into deep reds and blues. He didn't want to be caught here after dark and the only he was was because Professor Washington had granted him special permission- not that it was hard to get it. He just wanted to stay a little longer...

Aaron, with very little training, had managed to snag a spot in a law company already. It wasn't hard- he was a skilled debater, and his father had managed the company previously. It won him special treatment, as well the irrevocable spot. He was a prodigy in the eyes of his professors and peers but what he had to loose to create himself were things he had rather kept.

He knew now that he had to leave. The original intent was the study, read a little. That hadn't worked out. He sighed, pushing himself up and stretching. He had been here to nearly an hour, simply reminiscing, and he would have stayed longer if he could have. He closed the door on his way out.

Walking home was never boring or a pain as one might think it was. It was filled with beauty and distractions at every turn, if you simply looked carefully enough.

He took a path that lead him through a park, stopping to look at the few flowers who had somehow managed to prosper in the dark, chilly winter. It was little things in life that he loved, like his father before him, who seemed so harsh and strong when you first saw him and to many of coworkers, but Aaron knew that his father had been the kindest, more interesting man he would ever meet.

Ten minutes later, when Aaron was back in his apartment, his phone rung. He didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

" _Are you Aaron Burr, sir?_ " came the reply.

"That depends. Who's asking?"

" _Alexander Hamilton, sir._ "

Aaron paused. "Oh! You're from prelaw with Professor Washington."

" _Yes! I heard that you had secured a spot at a law company. How did you do it? Are they still accepting?_ " The kid was talking too fast, and Aaron could hardly understand it.

"Hamilton," he said slowly, "I got in under very special circumstances. I graduated top of my classes in every class. I was the Valedictorian. I never once got in trouble, and my father managed the company before he died, as did my mother every once and while."

Hamilton was silent for a moment. " _You're an orphan!_ " he exclaimed. " _I'm an orphan._ "

This was what he had taken away? Were they supposed to bond over this? Aaron wondered. This wasn't any social cue he had ever heard of. "Yes...here, Hamilton, let me offer you a piece of advice. Talk less."

" _What_?"

"Smile more."

" _Huh. Are you kidding me_?" he said, disbelieving.

Aaron rolled his eyes, a pity Hamilton couldn't see. "No. You'll never get anywhere if you look like you're on the verge of murder."

" _You can't be serious_."

"Deadly," Aaron said. "Hamilton-"

Voices in the background of the call. " _Sorry, Burr, I gotta go._ "

"Of course." Aaron hung up, more than a little relieved that the conversation was over. He didn't know how much longer he would last with Hamilton jabbering at him. 

Aaron considered himself an introverted person, one who preferred silence above all other sounds- other than Theodosia's voice, but she and her boyfriend were away visiting family. He didn't appreciate the quick, loud words that had exploded from the phone. He sighed, taking a glass from his cabinet and filling it with water and taking a long drink.

This was going to a long break without her, he thought to himself


	27. Chapter 27

It had been a month now, Alex realized as he sat in front of his computer. He had been dating Lafayette for a month and he was enjoying it. It was strange, he reflected. He had been so sure he couldn't live without John by his side but now...now the two hardly talked to each other. John was often out with the Schuyler's or Herc while Alex opted to stay in with Laf.

Part of him missed John, part of him still longed for the boy, but he was happy with Laf and they were happy with him. He wasn't willing to give that up.

"Mon cheri," Laf said gently, rapping on the half open door. "What are you doing?" They came to stand behind Alex, tenderly nuzzling his neck.

"Essay for Washington." Alex leaned into Laf, smiling.

"It's not due until break is over, come with me." Laf smiled. "John and Herc are absent once again."

Alex hummed thoughtfully before saving the document and standing. "Alright. What do you have planned?"

Laf shrugged. "Nothing of import. Just a pleasant moment to spare."

They took Alex's hand, leading out into the living room. A speaker was set up, soft music playing. "French," they said in response to a questioning look from Alex. They lead him into the centre of the room. "Dance with me?" There was a clock on the side table, reading 7:30pm.

Alex blushed slightly. "I don't know how," he admitted.

"You don't have to." Laf took his hands, swaying gently in time to the music. "I can lead."

This didn't feel right. It didn't feel wrong but something was off, a tiny little thing. _No_. He could be satisfied, he could do this. He liked Laf, perhaps even loved.

"Alright," Alex murmured. Their noses touched and Laf began to move to the ballad, guiding Alex through the steps.

"It's not hard, Alexander," they murmured. "See? You're getting there. Just- ow- stop stepping on my feet."

Alex laughed, moving back. "Sorry."

Laf pulled him closer as the song changed. They were nearly kissing- not that that, or anything else, was new to them- but Alex's heart sped up. Not quite the same why as it did with John, but close. 

Close enough.

Too close, John thought. They were standing too close. 

He had gone shopping an hour earlier and was supposed to have gone with the Schuyler's. He had opted out and decided to return home early. God, he wished he hadn't. Alex and Laf were rubbing noses, swaying to some music he couldn't hear and they looked impossibly at peace, in love. Alex was laughing and Laf's and hands were on his waist, leaning forward and speaking softly.

It hurt.

Dear God, it hurt so much. He should be happy, should be overjoyed that his best friend was happy, was so in love, but he couldn't bear it. The pain of it felt as if it would rip him to shreds, as if there were knives in his heart, white hot and barbed. He wanted to scream and he wanted to cry and he wanted to hug Alex and congratulate him but he couldn't.

He was stuck outside that window, watching Alex fall in love with someone who was not him.  
So, on that night, at 7:36pm, John ran.

He didn't know where he was going exactly, or if Alex or Laf had seen him but he didn't care. He ran and he ran and he trusted his legs to carry him somewhere where he could be alone. In the end, when he stopped, face red, and out of breath, he was on the beach. The same beach he had met Alex one and a half million years ago.

John fell forward, burying his face in his hands. His watch, glinting in the early dark, read 7:41. He was alone. Once again he was alone and once again, he felt as if he had lost everything. Whether or not he actually had was debatable. Alex was his everything, his motivation, the one person he trusted the most in the entire world, the boy he would hang the stars for, and he was in love with a person who glowed from the inside out like a sunset.

John had been wrong. Alex was satisfied, satisfied with the Marquis, with Laf. He wouldn't be satisfied with John.

He had known for a while now. He had figured that they loved each other after walking in on them making out on more than one occasion, walking in on them cuddling, or simply staring at each other. But this, this was conformation. The vulnerable, star struck look on Alex's face and the one of complete rapture on Laf's. 

It wasn't fair.

But it made Alex happy and that was what mattered.  
He would just have to live with that.

Alex had seen John there, seen his face in the darkness, his stricken eyes. He had seen pain so clear as day on his face that Alex was worried that he had been shot. The realization struck him like a canon ball when the other boy had turned and run like he was being pursued by a murderer.

Alex's heart stopped when Laf froze, dropping their hands. "Go," they said, gorgeous eyes very sad, and suddenly there was no doubt in Alex's mind that Laf knew. "Please, Alex. Go."

Alex felt his throat close, his eyes fill with tears. "Laf...I..."

"You don't have to explain," they murmured, kissing his cheek softly. "Go."

Alex closed his eyes but the warmth of Laf's lips were gone too soon. He nodded, hoping it conveyed both gratitude and apology, before rushing out the door into the darkness.

"John!" he shouted into the night, but the sound of footsteps had long faded away. "John Laurens!"

Once more, no answer.   
He gathered himself, slipping on shoes and a jacket, and running full speed down the street, knowing exactly where John would go, exactly what he would do. He knew that boy like he knew his own mind but somehow he had missed the one sign that could have saved them so such pain, so much trouble.

John was in love with him.

Alex let out a broken sob.

John was in love with him.

It had taken so long to find that out. He could have spared them all so much pain, so much grief, so much heartbreak. They could have been happily together by now. Herc and Laf could be together. No, instead he was blind to passion. Blind to the idea that he could be loved by someone as flawless as John Laurens. Or maybe he had been afraid.

All that love had taught him was that everyone dies. His mother, father, cousin, a foster father, friends back in the Caribbean. He lost everyone, everything he had loved. Up until now, it was second nature to be careful with his heart, to guard it. To keep it locked away and throw the key out. But now...now it was time to unlock it.

He slowed to a stop, gasping for air, and walked down to the sea. The moon was a crescent hanging over a sea of silver. Salt filled the air, as well as a bitter sense of deja vu when he spotted the figure standing up to his waist in the freezing water. Wind swept both of their hair, obscuring Alex's vision. His heart quickened with fear when he realized that John had intention of heading back to shore anytime soon. His watch that Laf had bought for him read 8:03pm.

When you went down to the beach at 8:03 in the summer time, it was for a camp fire or party or a date. It was for a night of smiles and food and love. When you went down the beach at 8:03 in winter, you didn't want to be seen. You didn't want to be found and, more often than not, you didn't want to be seen ever again.

But this time, John hadn't come here to die. He came here to run away from everything around him. The water, cold and cutting, was a perfect painkiller. The road of waves and wind was a beautiful music to drown out his entire world, and the fact death could be a side affect of forgetting didn't bother him in the slightest.

"John!"

John shook his head. The cold must have been getting to him. He was imagining things already. That wasn't good.

"John!"

He wanted to turn around but was sure that if he did, he would only be greeted with disappointment. Alex wasn't here. Alex was at home, making heart eyes at Lafayette.

"John, you promised me!"

John froze. Slowly, he turned around as the water lapped higher around his waist, sure that he'd only see moonlight on a barren beach. No. Alex was standing there, clad in silver light and the smell of a winter ocean. "Alex," he breathed, but didn't move. "Why are you here?"

Alex held out a hand, beckoning John. "Come to the shore," he said soothingly. "We can talk there."

John obliged, letting the waves carry him to the shore, where he immediately staggered a few steps stepped before collapsing onto the sand. His energy was drained and now that he was out of the water, the cold was starting to get to him. He let out a sob when he felt a jacket tenderly placed around his shoulders.

"We need to talk," Alex said softly, turning John towards him.

"About what?"

Alex sighed. "So many things. But, first, you promised me. You promised me you would never do that again." His eyes betrayed how hurt he was.

John flinched away when Alex reached for his hand. "We haven't spoken properly in a month. I figured you didn't care."

"Didn't- John, of course I care! It is my deepest regret that we drifted apart but we can fix that. John, we can fix it!"

"No," John choked. "No. We can't. I can't." His eyes stung with tears.

"Why not?"

John shook his head, shivering violently. "Because...dammit."

Alex's large eyes seemed to bore straight into his soul. "Why?"

"Because I love you!" John regretted the words the instant they left his mouth. He turned away in shame. "I love you," he whispered. "And I can't have you."

"Who says you can't?" Alex whispered. "John, I...you don't know how much I've wanted to hear those words."

John stiffened. "Really?" He refused to believe it.

He was so close, so vulnerable. Aled felt his heart ache. He wanted to kiss him so badly. But _Laf...No. No. No_. He could say no to this temptation, could stay loyal to Laf. He could say no to this. _No. No. No. No_.

Fuck this.

_Yes_.

In response, Alex crashed their lips together in a hungry, harsh kiss. Fireworks exploded behind his eyes and his only thought was 'this feels right.' It wasn't 'almost right,' like with Laf, this was perfect through and through. John pulled away.

"What the hell?" he demanded.

Alex blinked, taken aback. "What?"

"Look," he said, voice trembling, "I wanted that. I've wanted it for so long, but Laf. You're dating them. We can't...we can't do this."

"Yes," Alex grabbed his hands. "Yes, we can. John, I want you so much."

"You're with Laf! I can't believe you!" John wretched his hands away. "I thought you were better than this."

Alex pushed himself back, stricken. "John, we can talk to Laf. They'll understand."

"You'll break their heart," John whispered. "Alex, I can't let you do that. Put what we have- had- aside. Don't leave their side. I know you won't be satisfied but please just try and be. Don't break them." He stood up, shivering. "I appreciate you coming out here but you shouldn't have."

Alex followed suit, brushing himself off. "You promised me you'd never do that again. You broke that."

"I wasn't-" John cleared his throat, lowering his voice. "I wasn't going to do anything. I just...I needed to clear my mind."

"I can't trust that," Alex said sadly.

"And you just kissed me while you're with another person. How can I trust you?"

"Touché."

John sighed. "Leave."

"What?"

"I can't handle seeing you right now. Please, just leave. I'll come home later tonight."

"John-"

"Alex! I promise I won't do anything rash. Just leave me be." John shivered, the air chilling him to the bone. He pulled off the jacket, tossing at Alex. "I need time to think. Go home to Laf. Fuck, go out, I don't care. Remember what i said. Don't break them."

"I know," Alex said softly. "That won't stop me from loving you."

John tensed. "I don't care," he snapped. "Please, Alex, just go."

"Be safe," Alex murmured, turning to leave. His heart ached as he walked out into the road to begin the long journey home. It was 8:10. The world had turned upside down.

It was 8:30 when he arrived home, and wordlessly walked into Laf's open and waiting arms.

It was 8:35 when the two of them climbed into Laf's bed and curled up there together and the the entire time Alex sobbed and sobbed into Laf's shirt, thinking 'it's all gone wrong.'

Herc apparently fell asleep at the Schuyler's and John didn't return home that night.  
The little apartment was quiet.

 


	28. Chapter 28

John was still absent the next day, spiking Alex's worry. It had been a hard, cold night and John had been soaking wet. He didn't respond to anyone calling him, not matter how many times they did. Alex sighed, tenting his hands and leaning his forehead against them. It was 8:05 in the morning.

"We need to talk,"Laf said seriously, sliding into the chair across from him. Their hair was loose and mussed from sleep.

Alex looked up. "Laf? Is everything alright?"

"I don't know. Is it?" Laf leaned forward and a flicker went through Alex's heart. Maybe he still had some feelings for them.

"Alex," they started, "look. What happened with John last night? You can tell me anything."

Guilt coursed through Alex, flooding his senses. Laf didn't deserve this. They didn't deserve this pain and the knowledge that Alex had cheated on them, but he couldn't bear to lie again. "Laf," he choked out, tears filling his eyes. "I...I kissed him." Hurt flickered across Laf's face. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I-"

"No." Laf held up a hand, voice breaking. "I was stupid. I should have known. In...in fact, I think I did know. I just...didn't want to believe it. I was stupid, I was selfish. I believed that it was meant to be."

"I am so sor-"

"Don't. I knew your heart never fully belonged to me. I should never have pursued it. I always knew that you were never truly mine- at any point in our relationship. I assume you knew that too." They looked down at their hands.

"I still shouldn't have kissed him. I should have remained loyal to you."

Laf smiled sadly. There was an inconceivable amount of pain in their eyes. "I agree. Alex, we're breaking up. You knew this was coming, as did I. Go, Alex, find John. I want nothing but the best for the two of you. I saw how you looked at him and I knew, deep down, that my feelings were unrequited." They wiped their eyes with the back of their hand.

"Again, I am sorry for ever pursuing you. You couldn't be satisfied with anyone other than John and I should have seen that. I was so convinced that I could be right for you, that I could..." They stumbled over words, unsure of how to say it. "That I could create the feelings for me. That I could be good enough to surpass John."

Alex nodded, feeling tears on his cheek. "Gilbert de Montier de Lafayette, you are the best of people. Honestly, I owe you so much and I am so, so sorry. Never doubt that you are enough. If you want to hate me or be mad at me, I understand."

Laf smiled sadly, eyes glimmering. "Alexander, I could never be mad at you, nor could I hate you. I want you to be happy. Find him."

Alex nodded, leaning over to kiss Laf slowly and tenderly one last time, pouring every last bit of love into the kiss so he could rid himself of it forevermore. Laf kissed him back slowly, breathing in every moment. Finally, after a long minute, Laf pulled back. Alex nodded, the mutual understanding that this was the last time hovered in the air. 

"I'll be back soon," Alex promised. "Laf, listen. There is someone else who loves you very much, who will be better to you than I ever could."

Laf nodded, wiping their eyes. "Sure."

Alex gave them a last, tight lipped smile full of regret and guilt. "Thank you," he whispered, turning and walking out into the biting morning air. It was 8:39 in the morning and the early air smelled crisp and damp, salty. He turned, slipping on shoes and running.

Alex hated running. Absolutely hated it, but this wasn't about him. This was about John, about something bigger that him, so he ran and ran until he couldn't run anymore and walked the rest of the way to the ocean. It was 8:50.

Alex moved silently along the beach for several minutes, looking to where John might be. He pushed any painful thoughts from his mind and focused on how beautiful the grey light looked hitting the sea until he happened upon a large, flat, piece of driftwood lying horizontally. Underneath it, John lay asleep, curled into himself.

"John," Alex whispered, hesitantly reaching out a hand and shaking him. John sat up so fast he hit his head on the wood, cursing loudly.

"Why are you here?" he asked viciously, rubbing his head. "What do you want?"

Alex reached out, feeling his still damp clothes. "You're freezing," he noted. "Let's go somewhere warm."

"No. Explain." John set his jaw, gorgeous eyes staring stubbornly at Alex. It was obvious that he wasn't going anywhere.

Alex sighed, shrugging off his jacket and nudging it towards John who took it gratefully, wrapping himself up in it. Alex's heart pounded. He stood up, John following suit. "I talked to Laf. I explained, I apologized."

"Damnit, Alex. I told you not to hurt them." John eyes hardened. "What did they say?"

Alex hung his head. "I know what you said. But, John, they had already figured. Please, come home. We can be together. You can have me, if you want. I'm yours." 

John laughed, a terrible, broken sound so drastically different than his usual that Alex actually felt a wave of shock. "I've wanted this for so long," he said hoarsely, "and yet, suddenly, I can't bear the thought of it. I love you, Alex, with every bit of me but this won't work. You weren't faithful to Lafayette- one of the kindest people we know. What's to say you'll be faithful to me?" He turned around, as if ready to sprint away at a moments notice. Alex grabbed his arm, grounding him to the spot.

They were hardly an inch apart. The sunlight seemed to seep into John's very bones, making him glow ethereally. His eyes reflected the fading stars and any that they didn't catch were sprinkled across his face. Slowly, as if feeling Alex's eyes on him, he turned to look back. 

Alex couldn't breath. John had stolen all his air and didn't seem to be planning on giving it back anytime soon. Alex's eyes flickered to his lips, his heart pounded and he was unable to control the feeling any longer. _No_. _No. No_. John was leaning in. _No. No. No.  
_

_Yes._

"Can I kiss you?" Alex whispered so quietly he was worried John couldn't hear him.

 _Yes_.

  
John's eyes widened momentarily before closing the space between them without a word. 

_Yes_.

Their first kiss had been rushed, packed with uncertainty and adrenaline. This one, this one was perfect. It was slow, natural, passionate, and requited. Oh God, it was requited. Alex was matching his every movement, and it was a dance. A dance of pink lips and curious tongues, of flirtations and hesitance and naked, undisguised need.

 _Yes_.

Somewhere, a clock chimed, declaring it to be 9:00 in the morning.

Something inside of Alex snapped, a cord that had been pulling tighter and tighter since he had met John, and maybe he hadn't realized it at first, or maybe he had and ignored it.

Regardless, he felt it snap inside of him and he pulled away, shaking and almost crying with some inexplicable emotion caught between love and bittersweetness. He pressed his forehead against John's, feeling a tear roll down his face. "I love you," he whispered. "I promise I will be faithful."

"I know," John murmured, unsure if he completely knew or not. He was willing to take the risk. "I love you too." He pressed a kiss to Alex's forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment. "I love you." He wrapped his arms around the shorter boy, letting him rest his head on his shoulder. "Alex, I want to be a part of your Narrative. Whatever story is told of us hundreds of years in the future, whatever remains of us, I want to be there beside you."

"I want you to be there with me." Alex stood there, safe and comforted in John's arms. His closed his eyes, turning his face into John's shirt. It smelled like ocean salt and sand and cold night air. "You scared me last night," he whispered. "Promise me, for real this time. Promise you won't do this ever again."

"I do," John said softly. "I promise." He buried his face in Alex's hair. "I just...I saw you and Laf and..." He sniffled a little. "I should have left you be. You should have left me that night."

"You don't ever get to say that," Alex said. "Where would we be if you hadn't moved in? You're with me now. Everything's fine."

John nodded, silent for a long moment. "Did you ever love them?" he asked finally.

"What?"

"Laf. Did you ever love them?"

Alex thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I could have grown to, I think. We could have been happy but...but something was also just a little bit off. There was a tiny piece out of place in the grand puzzles of our lives. Laf and I weren't meant to be, I think they knew that."

"And we are?"

Alex sighed. "Lord, I hope so."

 

Lafayette sat on the sofa, staring at the wall in front of them. Their mind was buzzing- a blessing and a curse. They sighed, picking at the cushions. What had gone wrong? Why weren't they enough for Alex? Why couldn't they be happy together?

 _John_.

Alex loved John. He loved him so much that it was painfully to watch. Lafayette had always known this day was coming, always know they'd have to give Alex up. They had just wanted to be happy but all that had happened was pain and misery. Part of them wanted to hate John, hate him for tearing this apart. They just couldn't, no matter how hard they tried. Their mind strayed to Alex's words: " _there is someone else who loves you very much.._ "

Laf snorted. He had probably been trying to make them feel better by lying. He hadn't wanted to hurt them so he had devised this story. They sighed, picking up their phone and sending a text to Herc.

_Baguette: come back to Alex and John's pls  
_

Immediately, dots popped up on the screen, showing that Herc was trying.

_Tailor: why? r u ok?  
_

_Baguette: pls  
_

_Baguette: I'll explain when ur here  
_

_Tailor: omw_

It took hardly ten minutes for the Schuyler's to drop him off but it felt like forever. Laf was bursting with emotions they couldn't name, couldn't bear for much longer. Herc opened the door, slipping off his shoes and damp coat. "Laf?"

"I'm here."

Herc's eyes changed from confusion to concern at the tone of their voice. "What happened?"  
Laf felt tears burning hot behind their eyes. "Alex and I broke up," they said softly.

Herc's face filled with pity, and other tenderness. He sat down next to Laf, gently pulling them closer. "What happened?"

"Last night, after you left, we were hanging out. We kissed and John saw us. He left and Alex went after him. I don't know what happened exactly, I wasn't there, but he came back that night in tears and the next morning he told me they had kissed." Herc made a noise of sorrow. "It's fine. He apologized several times and I told him we were to remain friends and just that. He left to find John, who hadn't come home last night. He's still not back."

"I'm sorry," Herc murmured, giving them a half hug and hardly resisting the urge to kiss the top of their head. 

Laf smiled tightly, wiping their eyes. "It's okay. He said- he said someone else loved me very much, that they would do better for me that he could have ever."

Herc's heart fluctuated. "Did he?"

"Yeah. But I don't know who yet..." Laf sighed, pressing their face into Herc's arm and breathing deeply, hardly holding back tears.

Herc hesitated, placing a hand on their back and stroking it. His heart pounded. He didn't know if he was ready for this. "I have an idea."

Laf tensed but didn't move. "Who?"

He was silent for a moment, thinking through what he could say. His mind was buzzing and his heart was pounding. "Laf, look at me."

They obliged, sitting back to look Herc in the face. Their eyes were wet with unshed tears and confusion. "Why?" Laf asked, tucking a piece of hair behind their studded ear.

"Lafayette," Herc breathed softly, "the person Alex was talking about, it's me."

Silence hung heavily in the air. Laf didn't say anything and Herc's heart pounded in anticipation.

Finally, with horrifying finality, Laf dragged their eyes up to Herc's. "Really?" He nodded. "Herc, I don't...I don't feel the same way..."

Something inside of him shattered, was stamped out like a flame. The world stopped for a long moment, Laf's words replayed in his head over and over, surround him, drowning him. He nodded, looking away to mask the hurt on his face. With a heavy sigh, he said, "I know. I...you deserve to know." His voice was trembling.

"I'm sorry."

Herc shook his head. "No, I am. You deserve better than what you've been handed. You'll find someone."

Laf nodded, looking away. They didn't seem to know what to say but the look in their eyes spoke enough. There was hurt, anger, grief, and confusion placed too tightly in those brown eyes, flooding through them. They nodded again, clearing their throat. "I need to use the bathroom," they said, standing up and hurrying down the hall.

Herc didn't have a chance to say anything else. Instead, he turned and marched out the door, forcing himself to hold it together long enough to get away from the apartment. A ways away, he stopped, dropping down with his back against a tree and starting to sob. 

It wasn't fair. _It wasn't fair!_ Herc let out a broken whimper, ashamed of his tears, of his broken heart. He took a steadying breath than gave way into a sob almost immediately and suddenly he lost all control.

Everything flooded him: how long he had loved Laf, how often they could have kissed, all the little signs he had shown, and then Laf and Alex smiling over at each other, hand hand in hand. The absolute rapture with which Laf looked at him, with which they would take his hand in their own. The absolute heartbreak on John's when they would kiss.

Someday, Herc prayed, someday his heart would heal. Someday he would be over Lafayette, but he just couldn't see it. Laf was perfection, an ideal person inside and out and Hercules would rather die than give that up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys,  
> I'm having a family emergency so I might be late with my next update. Just wanted to get this one out before I leave. Sorry.


	29. Chapter 29

Theodosia returned early after her boyfriend had a fight with his father. From what Aaron could understand, her boyfriend was facing a lawsuit for his actions, leaving her free to return home.

To return home to him.

Aaron paced anxiously, waiting for her to show up. He wasn't used to this freedom, this lack of security in their affair. Usually they were rushed, anxiously checking clocks and windows for any sign of her boyfriend coming home early. Usually it was filled with Theo crying into his arms, terrified that he had gone out to drink again and then he'd come home, breath heavy with alcohol, and tell her terrible things under his breath. He'd tell her she was fat, disgusting, lazy, stupid, a bitch. He'd tell her that he'd seen another girl and how much more beautiful she was than her. He'd tell her that needed to try and be pretty, try and loose or gain weight. Sometimes, she had told Aaron, he'd come home and detail his hookup with another woman. Every moment of these stories made Aaron want to kill him more.

A knock made him jump, then rush to his door, pulling it open. "Theo!" he said, a grin splitting his face.

"Aaron!" Theo replied with equal enthusiasm, rushing to hug him. She was tall, curvy. Her skin was an almost bronze brown, her black hair was dyed red at the ends of braids that came down to her waist. Her eyes were lined with gold and shining with joy.

The weight of her warm body was heavy and comforting against his chest. "I missed you," she said softly.

"I missed you too." He nuzzled her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead and smiling against her hairline. "I love you."

She laughed, a deep, raw sound. He had fallen in love with her laugh first, upon hearing it when she was talking to her friend, Peggy Schuyler. He had pursued that diamond laugh until he had tracked it back to a single person. The fact she had a boyfriend never stopped them.

"Aaron," she said with that lopsided smile, "what do you want to do?"

He smiled back, petting her hair. "It's your first day back. How about a movie?"

"A movie? Sure!"

Aaron stepped back, looking at her. Something was off. His stomach dropped when he saw the slim gold band on her finger. "You...you're engaged?" he asked quietly. The warmth in the room dissipated.

Her smile dropped away. "Aaron..."

"Theo, you should have told me."

"I wanted to!" she cried, distressed. "He watched me all the time. I didn't have a chance."

Aaron shushed her. "You said yes?"

"It was in front of his family. I couldn't say no." She looked almost scared for a second, as if she expected Aaron to start yelling.

"I know. I'm not mad...I'm just..." He deflated, slowly touching her arm, pulling her closer. "I love you."

"I love you too. He's going to court, so there's a huge chance the engagement is going to be called off, or at least put off.”

Aaron scrutinized her again, trying to change the subject. "Have you lost weight?" he asked gently, keeping his tone neutral.

She looked almost embarrassed. "Jack wanted me to look presentable. He said I needed to loose at least five pounds."

Aaron's blood boiled but he knew he couldn't get angry around Theo, not with everything else she was working through. "You don't need to loose any weight," he said soothingly, keeping his arm around her protectively. "None at all. Your boyfriend- fiancé- is an ass."

She grimaced at the word. Fiancé. _Ugh_. "I know...I just...I didn't have a choice." Her stomach rumbled and she gave him an embarrassed smile. "I'm fucking starving."

"That word sounds so wrong in such a pretty voice," Aaron teased, knowing how much she hated being told off for swearing.

"Fuck you."

Aaron laughed, going to pull out some bread from his cabinets. He was so in love and it was a little scary. It was scary because everyone he loved always seemed to end up dead.

///

"Theo's here?" Peggy exclaimed, staring down at her phone. She was sitting in the living room with her sisters in the Schuyler residence.

"Theo?" Angelica said without looking up from her book. "Who?"

In the room over, Eliza's nimble hands stilled on her piano. "Theodosia? The one dating Jack whatshisface?"

"The very same," Peggy said, standing up and stretching. "She invited us over to the place she's staying. Says your girlfriend can come too."

Eliza blushed, looking over at her sister. "Maria is not my girlfriend."

Angelica set her book aside, smirking. "I walked in on you two literally asleep in the same bed cuddling. Or- I'm sorry- was it just a platonic nap between gal pals?"

"Shut up."

"You love me."  
Eliza flipped her the finger, folding up her music and setting it aside. "Yeah, I do." Angelica made a noise of success. "But Pegs is my favorite sister."

Peggy laughed at the disgruntled look on her oldest sisters face, dodging a gentle slap.

Ten minutes later, at 11:38 in the morning, the Schuyler sisters, plus Maria, pulled up in front of the apartment address Theo had given them. Peggy clamored out of the car and up the steps, anxious to see her friend for the first time in months. 

"Peggy!" Theo shouted when she opened the door, hugging the younger girl tightly. "It's so good to see you again."

Peggy laughed, burying her face in the girls shoulder. "It's been forever," she sighed. "'Missed you." She stepped back. "I love your hair!"

"Thank you!" She turned around, glancing at the boy behind her. Peggy didn't recognize him. "Aaron, this is Peggy. Peggy, Aaron." Peggy waved.

Eliza approached Theo with a warm smile. "Eliza Schuyler," she introduced. "Peggy's told us some things about you."

"The famed Elizabeth Schuyler?" Theo asked earnestly. "You go to that college downtown, right? The music one?"

"Yes!"

"That's incredible. Peggy talked about your piano skills constantly." Theo grinned, gesturing her in. "That's Aaron Burr," she said about the boy at the top of the stairs.

"Maria Lewis," Maria said with a beautiful smile. Her eyes surveyed Theo, taking in the girl and their surroundings. Her eyes softened.

Theo smiled, feeling a connection to the girl. "Nice to meet you. Peggy says you and Eliza are close friends, is that right?"

Maria blushed. “Y-yeah?”

“They're pretty close,” Angelica said, asserting herself, as usual.

"Shut up," Maria muttered, but she was smiling. "I hate you, Angie."

"Don't worry, Maria. You have my blessing to date my little sister." Angelica flashed a blinding smile towards Theo. "Angelica- Angie- Schuyler."

"Hi," Theo said, brushing back her hair. "Peggy's told me some thing about you too. Unlike Eliza's, not all of them are good,” Theo said, holding out a hand. Angelica raised her eyebrows, taking her hand.

"But all of them are true," Peggy said from behind Theo, ignoring Angelica's glare. 

Theo laughed, ushering them inside. "We were going to watch Moana, care to join?"

"Yes!" Maria said. "It's a fantastic movie." Eliza made a noise of agreement, taking her arm and leading them to the sofa in front of a large TV.

"So," Aaron said as they settled down on the couch and chairs, "I'd like to know some things about you. Let's each give a few facts about yourselves. I'll go first." He cleared his throat. "My name is Aaron Burr. I have an internship at a law company and secured position after I get out of college." Angelica whistled, clearly impressed. "I am an only child and I graduated top of my class through all of school."

Theo went next, leaning her head on Aaron's shoulder. "My full is Theodosia Barthow Prevost, after my grandmother. I study engineering, and my boyfriend is currently being tried for physical assault on his father."

"Jack?" Peggy asked, surprised. Theo nodded. "Well, shit. I always hated that little-“

"Peggy," Eliza chided gently. "You're not allowed to swear. Also, forgive me if I'm wrong, but Theo, are you saying both Jack and Aaron?"

Theo looked down at her hands. "It's pretty complicated. I'm sure Peggy can explain later."

Oh," Eliza breathed. "Sorry, I'll go. I play piano at the music college downtown but I'd love to work with children at some point as a career. I am gay as heck but I've only ever dated guys." 

Angelica smirked over at Maria, who was watching Eliza with a look of rapture, as if she was clinging on to her. "Maria," she said. "Your turn."

Maria jumped a little, quickly composing herself. "Let's see...I'm bisexual. I work in charcoal and major in art in college, and my last boyfriend wasn't the greatest man alive so forgive me if I'm a little...tense." She flashed everyone a quick smile and Theo realized why they had connected so well. She sighed, wishing they had something else in common, not this.

"It's completely fine, Maria," she said gently, smiling kindly. "I understand."

"You do?"

Theo shrugged. "Like I said, my boyfriend is being tried for physical assault. He's not a great person." The room was quiet, a moment of silence for the girls.

Peggy coughed, interrupting the quiet. Maria rolled her eyes. Peggy had never been one for silence. "I'll go now. My full name is Margarita, which- coincidentally- is the first alcohol I ever had-"

"First?" Angelica said, eyes dangerous.

"Only!" Peggy amended. "Only alcohol I ever had. Second, I'm the youngest which means I can get away with murder, and I almost did once. Okay, I didn't kill someone but I almost did and Eliza got blamed." This time it was Eliza's turn to glare. "Lastly, I am aromantic and asexual."

"I'm Angelica and I'm the oldest and the wittiest and I intend the bring down the patriarch at some point in my life." She paused as Theo laughed. "Second, Thomas Jefferson- son the Senator Jefferson- has hit on me on multiple occasions. Third, I'm the only straight one out of all my siblings."

"She thinks she's straight," Maria said, eyes devious. "Peggy and I have a plan."

"Do I even want to know?" Eliza asked, passing a hand over her eyes. Peggy started to say something by then stopped, thinking it through. "You know what? I really don't."

A few minutes later, the movie was set up and starting. Eliza and Maria were curled up together on one of the chairs, Peggy and Angelica were on the couch with Theo and Aaron. Everything was quiet, was good.

Half way through 'How Far I'll Go,' Maria's phone rang. Her stomach dropped when she saw the number and she elbowed Eliza hard in the ribs. "Liza," she said, voice shaking.

Eliza peered over at the phone. The number was horribly familiar. "Don't answer it," she said quietly, wrapping an arm around Maria.

Five minutes later, the phone rang again. The same number. "Eliza, he's gonna keep calling until I pick it up," she whispered. "I've blocked him but he gets around it. He calls on house phones, sends letters, messages me."

Aaron had paused the movie and all eyes were on the ringing phone and Maria's terrified face. "Maria," Eliza started, paying no attention to their audience, "how long has this been going on?"

"A week maybe. He wants to reconcile so he'll win in court."

"You should have told me."

Maria looked up, guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Theo cautiously asked, "is it your ex?"

Had it been anyone else other than Eliza, Maria would have snapped, but Theo and her were in similar situations. She nodded. "Yes. I have to- have to answer this."

"You don't have to," Angelica said, voice soft and calming.

“Just put the phone over there,” Theo said, her shaking hands betraying her nervousness, as if she had been through the same thing. “Don't answer him. It won't make anything better. You don't have to talk to him, trust me.”

Maria shook her head. "Yes, I do." She stood up, leaving everyone staring after her, and walked into the hall. "Hello?"

 _"Well, well, well. If it isn't Maria Reynolds,"_ came the slow drawl.

"Lewis," she breathed angrily. "I never took- never considered- taking your name, James. What do you want?"

He laughed, a smokers laugh- raspy and pained. _"Why to see you of course. We should get together sometime."_

"No."

" _You miss me_."

"I don't."

" _I can tell you do._ "

"You're wrong."

" _I'm never wrong, love_."

Maria bristled. "Don't call me 'love'."

_"Sure thing, love. How about this, Rochambeau Cafe down on ninth? Noon in five days. Come if you want."_

"Don't count on it."

_"Sure, babe."_

The pet name brought bile into her mouth and she ended the call quickly, letting her body sink down against the wall. Distantly, Eliza was calling for her. She felt her hands on her shoulders, pulling her up and leading her down stairs and more stairs until they were on flat ground and then in a car. How did that happen? 

"Maria," Eliza said. Her voice floated in and out of focus. "Maria!"

"I'm here," Maria made herself reply. "I'm here."

Eliza's body settled down next to hers. "We're gonna wait here for a while, alright?"

"Alright." Unconsciously, she buried herself into Eliza's side, yearning for touch, for a barrier between her and her thoughts.

When Eliza's hands were brushing through her hair, rubbing her arms and back, it was hard not to feel more that a tinge of love for the girl. Maria had come to terms with the fact she loved Eliza a long time ago, but it was still fresh and scary.

They had kissed once, a while ago, under a clear blue sky- the last of the year before they started college, before she had ended it with James. It had been new, bold, breathtaking, and wanted. Maria had promptly pulled away after her mind had caught up to the moment and they had both agreed to never speak of or recreate that moment again.

Loving was terrifying to Maria because the last time she had, it had ended with her almost dead in a hospital, every part of her body screaming.


	30. Chapter 30

Alex groaned, rolling over, and blinking tired eyes open. The illuminated clock read 1:34 in the morning. He sighed, glancing behind him, where John lay curled up and swathed in blankets. It had been three days only but it didn't seem like they would ever get enough of each other- despite sex being out of the question. 

John, it turned out, would go as far as one could without actually having a sexual interaction. They would lie in bed for hours, kissing and kissing as if their lives depended on it, and Alex would climb on top of John, kissing down his chest to his stomach, but never farther. John would thrive under Alex's gentle hands and rough lips and teeth, and Alex would never move past a point where they were both comfortable. Seeing John lying sweaty and hot beneath him was a vision nothing else could match.

They had taken to sharing a bed immediately after Laf and left and they had officially become a couple. It was more comfortable for both of them- John's nightmares were much less frequent, and Alex actually slept- as well as the joy to wake up next to the other. The beds in the apartment were small, cramped but they made it work, vowing that once they graduated, they would get a bigger place and make it the home that neither of them ever truly had.

Every talk about the future sent fire down Alex's spine. He would want nothing more than to grow old with John, to live their lives in harmony and love.

John mumbled something incoherent and reached out a tired hand for Alex. Alex turned towards him, stroking his hair back from his face. "I'm here," he soothed. "Go back to sleep." John mumbled something else, burying his face in the pillow. Alex smiled, heart melting. "Love you," he murmured, pressing his lips to John's cheek.

Saying "I love you" wasn't weird for them, wasn't something they were holding off. It was natural, and true, and both of them wanted to make sure the other knew.

Alex rolled over again, pulling out a notebook from his drawer. It was leather, dark leather, and beautiful. He had always been afraid to use it, a gift from his foster mother years ago. It was so beautiful and it deserved to hold something beautiful. Alex flipped to the first page, pulling a pencil from his drawer and, with agonizing detail, began to describe every single aspect of John- from his face to his bare shoulders. He recalled the night he had found John on the beach, and the nights before that, filled with silence and awe at the boy who wore robes of starlight and danced on the ocean. Maybe they could go back there someday.

By the time Alex had finished, he had filled three pages in neat but cramped writing. It was nearly 2:10. Alex slipped the notebook into the drawer, hoping John wouldn't see it until the time was right. And, whenever that may be, he hoped he would know just how beautiful he was, just how much he was loved. For some reason, the thought of John not knowing brought tears into Alex's eyes.

"Since I was eight," John had said. His father had started beating him when he was eight. His father had thrown him out like garbage, like a punching bag, when he was eight. Could John remember his mother in more that photographs and stories? Was she a faded figure in his mind? She had taught him that song, Alex remembered. That song he had sang while walking into the ocean.

_God_. Alex didn't think he'd ever erase that image from his mind. Every nightmare was of John stepping farther and farther in until he was submerged in murky water. And Alex could scream for him, of course he would, but John would be far beyond his reach. _Lost_. Alex shuddered. _Lost_. The thought of loosing John felt like a knife.

Alex rolled over, wrapping his arms around the taller boy's waist and burying his face in his freckles shoulder. _Never_ , he vowed. _You'll never be lost_.  
  
John blinked open his eyes. It was 8:40. There was grey light peering in through the window, illuminating the floor and shining directly into John's eye. He sighed, snuggling deeper into his blankets, trying to ignore the signs of a new day. Nothing worked. He rolled over.

Alex was curled against John's back, face buried in the blankets. He looked so small and so vulnerable, and John was struck with the knowledge that Alex was only human. He wasn't a god, or a being of light, but a human. Just like John, with emotions and pain and self hatred, with the need for sleep, for food and water. He was simply...human.

Alex always presented as a higher being, one without need for sleep or food or human needs he, as if he didn't want to worry people. He didn't want to seem weak or a burden. The thought of Alex thinking John was tired of him broke his heart.

John pressed a kiss to his cheek, reaching behind him to check his phone. It was 8:46 in the morning. He had one new text.

_Lafbaguette: we r getting a new student in gwash's history_

John furrowed his brow. This was the first time Laf had contacted either of them since the incident three days ago. Maybe they had just needed time to cool off. 

_Jawwwwn: who?_

_Lafbaguette: Charles Lee_

_Lafbaguette: Thomas said you might know him_

John's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't move, couldn't breath. The world seemed to have stopped around as waves of shock coursed through his body, racking it, breaking it.

_Charles Lee._

Through a murky swamp of memories that flooded him, that name rang clearly through his find, threatening to end him there and then.

_Charles Lee._

A beautiful boy watching their sisters study, eyes twinkling as he looked over at John. Soft hands guiding John's in smooth strokes across a canvas, teaching him a more efficient way of painting. A tender smile gracing his features as he looked down at John who was painting a portrait of his mother. A soft voice telling him how talented he was, how much potential he held. Gold hair shining in the sunlight. A warm hand leading John down to the beach. Long legs running across the sand and a warm laugh filling the air.

_Charles Lee._

The smell of blood and a suddenly rough, hate filled voice screaming "faggot", at a kid with their hands covering their face as punches peppered them.

_Charles Lee._

John stood up, forcing himself together. He looked down at his phone, making sure he wasn't imagining things. No. There it was, the name. "Fuck," John swore shakily.

_Lafbaguette: John?  
_

_Jawwwwn: gtg_

_Lafbaguette: okay  
_

_Lafbaguette: sorry  
_

_Lafbaguette: bye_

He set his phone down. This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. Charles Lee, here? No, it couldn't be. John pinched himself, hoping this was a nightmare. It wasn't. He looked over at Alex, debating on waking him up. He'd want to know, John decided after a minute. "Alex," he whispered. "Wake up."

Alex groaned, pulling his blankets up. "Mmm?"

"Alexander Hamilton."

"What?" Alex asked softly. His eyes were sleepy brown circles that melted John.

"Something happened," John whispered. "Nothing too bad."

Alex sat up, groaning. "What?" He was instantly awake, and obviously ready to fight someone. "What happened?"

John took a deep breath, gathering himself. "A few days after we met," he began, "we played twenty questions, remember that?"

"Yeah...what does this have-"

"-yeah, so one of the questions you asked me if I'd ever been in love. And I told you-"

"-once. Or you thought you were. You liked a senior, you were fifteen. He was expelled for nearly killing a kid and beating them up. Yeah?"

John smiled, pleased that Alex had remembered. He sobered up quickly, looking down at his hands. "Yeah. Alex, he's transferring into Washington's history class. He's here."

"What?"

John nodded, throat closing up. "His name is Charles Lee."

Alex's eyes widened. "What?" he repeated. "Here's here? The boy you were...?"

John nodded, letting out something akin to a whimper. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? It's not your fault." Alex wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "It'll be fine. I'll fight him for you."

John laughed softly. "Yeah, that would go over well."

"Really," he said sincerely. "And we have a while until you have to go back Washington's classes. We can make a plan."

"Yeah," John said with a smile, kissing Alex's cheek. He sighed. "I love being able to kiss you. It killed me not being able to."

Alex grinned. "I know. I felt the same way. Sometimes I still do when, you know, we're in public or something. Hey, how'd you even find out about Lee?"

"Laf texted me."

Alex’s eyes widened. “They did? Did they say anything else?"

John shook his head apologetically. "Nothing."

"They've been ignoring us all since...that," Alex said sadly.

"Alex, I love you but, in all fairness, you did break their heart," John reasoned. "I warned you, remember?"

"You're right," Alex sighed, "like always. But I couldn't live with myself if we'd kept it going any longer. I didn't love them, not how I love you. I just wish that they loved Herc back. Neither of them deserve that pain.”

"No," John agreed. "No one does."

His phone buzzed with an incoming call and he picked it up. "Herc," he said to Alex before putting it to his ear. "Hey."

" _Hey_ ," he said. John felt a wave of shock. He sounded empty, unfeeling, so un-Herc-like that John actually flinched. 

"You okay, man?"

Herc sighed. _"Yeah. I'm just tired. They've been laying order after order on me. It's annoying."_

"Take a break," John chided. "Hey...you haven't been contacted by...." he trailed off.

" _No_ ," he said miserably. _"I fucked up so much. I shouldn't have-"_

"-don't blame yourself. The situation was out of your control."

_"John, they moved out_ ," Herc snapped. _"I must have done something to warrant that_!"

John sighed, putting the phone on speaker for Alex to hear. "It wasn't your fault," he repeated soothingly. "Call them."

" _I can't...I can't bring myself to_." Herc let out a sob. _“I've tried to but I can't make myself. John, it hurts so much.”_

Alex looked horrified. "Herc, it's Alex. Stop. Okay? This isn't your fault. I shouldn't have ever dated them in the first place. I dug this hole the first time we even went out. Just try, please."

Herc sniffled. " _Okay. I guess...I mean, it's not like I've got much more to loose_." He let out a long, sad sigh. " _I love them so much..._ "

"I know," John soothed. "And I know how it feels." Alex's hand tightened around his. "You'll get through it, just talk to them."

_"I will. I'll try. Thanks, you guys. I'll text you later."_

"Bye, Herc," Alex said, smiling over at John sadly.

The call ended and John sighed. "I feel so bad for him."

"I know," Alex said sadly. "Why can't life just let us all be happy?”

John shook his head. "I think...I think Laf does but they don't know how to. Think about it, they love you, right? And look how that ended up. I'm not- I'm not criticizing you...just, you know. It's true."

"I know." Alex leaned his head in the crook of John's neck. "I love you."

"Love you too." John was silent for a long moment. “Do you think they’ll be alright? Laf, I mean.”

Alex shrugged. “They're strong. I think they will heal, I think they'll be fine.”

“And Herc?”

Alex didn't respond for a moment. “I hope so.”

They drifted off into silence, content with being next to each other. “Alex?” John asked softly.

“Yeah?”

"My dad emailed me yesterday."

"What?" Alex asked, looking down at him.

John sighed. "I wasn't going to tell you. I wasn't planning to go, but I need to see my sisters. I need to make sure they're okay."

Alex pulled away, taking John's hand. "Explain."

"He invited me for Christmas. Flight in three days. Tickets are paid for. I can take one person. I was going to ignore it but I miss my sisters so much. Alex, they're all I have left from how my family used to be." John blinked away tears. "I don't want to go but I need to. Will you come with me?"

"Of course," Alex said softly. "I'll go with you to the ends of the Earth."

John smiled, pressing a kiss to his lips. It was short and sweet and tasted like morning and cinnamon. He pressed Alex against the bed frame, feeling him push back into his lips. "Dear boy, I love you," John whispered. "I love you. I love you."

Alex laughed against John's lips. "My dear Laurens," he smiled, "I love you too."

 


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence, blood, and homophobic slurs

James Madison didn't get angry easily. He didn't prefer physical ways of settling disputes, rather talking things out. He didn't let emotions cloud his judgment, preferred to settle things in a calm, rational manner. However, sometimes he let that resolve simply slide. There were situations too dire to even think of negotiating. This was one of them. That's how he ended up with blood on his knuckles, crouching in an alleyway, hands scrambling for his phone at 9:32 at night.

The day began like any other vacation day. James woke up at 8:30, pressed a kiss to Thomas's forehead, and went out to buy breakfast. He had settled on a doughnut shop hardly a five minute walk from the apartment they had managed to afford, and brought six doughnuts- two glazed, two chocolate, two powered sugar, one jelly, one plain- and two coffees. The barista flirted with him a little even after he told her he wasn't interested, and then gave him a discount on the coffee and her hours.

He walked back, getting annoyed looks from an elderly couple for carrying a giant box, two coffees, and checking his phone. He arrived back at the apartment at quarter to nine.

He'd go into their bedroom and kiss Thomas's face until he woke up, telling him that he'd gotten food. Of course, they'd never go out immediately. Thomas usually pulled James down on top of him and they'd kiss for another five minutes before James would gently tell Thomas he was hungry and not to be so lazy.

When they sat down on the little table in the corner of the apartment, Thomas chugged his coffee, and set down the empty cup. "So," he said.

"So," James echoed.

"We've been dating for a while now, and it struck me that we haven't gone on a proper date. What do you say we go out tonight? I can pay." He fidgeted with his napkin as if embarrassed.

James felt his face heat up, a smile cutting across his face. "That would be fantastic," he said, grinning. "Any place you have in mind?"

"What type of food do you want? I know that you're allergic to shellfish so..."

James shrugged. "I like food. It doesn't matter where or what as long as it's actually edible."

Thomas laughed, pressing a hand to his chest. "A man after my own heart," he sighed, eyes softening. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

James smirked. "I'd like to know that."

Thomas sighed, eyes searching James face. "You're more than I could have ever asked for. You're way to good for me. You know that, right?"

"Really?" James asked. "Because I think we match each other perfectly." He extended a hand, taking Thomas's.

Thomas seemed to melt in front of him. "You're amazing."

"So are you."

He shrugged. "I'm aware," he said with a laugh. James hit his arm, laughing.

Hours later, Thomas was frantically texted Lafayette, asking what clothes would be appropriate for a fancy date. 

_TJeffs: help me I have a date with_ _James and idk what to wear  
_

_Lafbaguette: wow okay  
_

_TJeffs: helpppp  
_

_Lafbaguette: is this ur first date?  
_

_TJeffs:…yeah  
_

_Lafbaguette: AWW <3  
_

_TJeffs: I'll send you pics of clothes  
_

_TJeffs sent an image  
_

_Lafbaguette: no  
_

_TJeffs sent an image  
_

_Lafbaguette: meh  
_

_TJeffs: rlly???  
_

_Lafbaguette: yeah no it's not good  
_

_TJeffs sent an image  
_

_Lafbaguette: that one but with #1 pants  
_

_Lafbaguette: that one is good  
_

_TJeffs: rlly ok  
_

_TJeffs: r u and Alex still not talking  
_

_Lafbaguette: I don't want to talk about it  
_

_TJeffs: ok  
_

_TJeffs: bye thanks  
_

_Lafbaguette: bye ur welcome_  
  
Thomas set the phone aside, sighing. He loved Laf, he really did. He could easily recall the first time they had met, in a grocery store years ago. Laf had been muttering in French so, naturally, Thomas butted into the conversation in completely fluent French, much to Laf's delight. They had become quick friends. Without them, he didn't know where he'd be.

Thomas sighed, pulling on a black suit jacket over his white dress shirt, debating on a tie. Eventually he chose a dark purple one, knowing James loved that color. Speaking of which: "James," he called. "Ready?"

"Yeah, I guess." 

Thomas unlocked the bathroom door, stepping into the hall. He walked into the living room and...oh. Oh. James was wearing an entirely black suit jacket, dress shirt, and pants. He stopped dead several feet away, staring at him. James shifted awkwardly, not knowing how to act.

"Holy mother of God," Thomas whispered, resisting the urge to rip the clothes off of James and kiss him until they couldn't kiss anymore.

"Good?" James asked nervously. Thomas smiled, more than a little aroused. He couldn't think of a thing to say so, instead, he pulled James into a deep, lustful kiss. 

James gasped, immediately responding with tongue and passion and soft moans. He pressed Thomas up against the wall and Thomas let out a moan. James pressed a rough kiss to Thomas's neck, mumbling into the skin, "you look amazing."

Had James' phone not gone off, they probably would have stripped naked right then. "The alarm so we don't forget to go," James sighed as he checked his phone, straightening his suit.

"We'll have to finish tonight."  
Thomas made an impatient sound. "I'll look forward to that," he smirked, holding out a hand. James took it, smiling softly. He stopped, turned, and brushed Thomas's hair back, running a thumb over his cheekbone.

"You had a piece sticking straight out," he explained. Thomas glared at him, trying not to crack.

"Don't make me go to the restaurant with a boner," he said. "Or is that your intention?" James smirked, pulling him out the door.

"I have the right to remain silent."

"Only if you don't want to finish what we started," Thomas threatened with absolutely no intention of doing so.

James laughed, pulling him towards the car.

The ride took nearly fifteen minutes and was hardly a mile away from the college. The roads were packed downtown, every parking spot taken. Eventually, they found a spot about a ten minute walk from the restaurant in the parking lot of an old, closed building.

"8:05," Thomas said as they entered the restaurant. "We're late."

"By five minutes," James pointed out. "We're fine." He took Thomas's hand in his own, ignoring the look they got from a waitress.

Thomas sighed, relaxing. "My father drilled it into me that we always had to be somewhere on time." He made a face at the memories flashing in his mind.

"Well, he's not here right now," James said reassuringly, approaching the waiter at the from. "Reservation under the name 'Jefferson', for two."

The waiter checked something, checking a paper with his pen. "James Madison and Thomas Jefferson?" Thomas nodded. "This way, please."

They followed him through a dimly lit room filled with older people in fancy garb, far more expensive than even Thomas was wearing. The room smelled like scented candles and food and overdone perfume. Thomas risked taking James' hand again, hoping no one knew his father. Or knew anyone who knew his father. 

The booth was in the very back of the restaurant, sheltered from prying eyes. The waiter smiled at them, introducing himself as Jason Chamberlain. "I always sit here with my fiancé. It's harder for people to judge what they can't see, isn't it?"

Thomas smiled widely. "I suppose it would be. Thank you." He took James' hand from across the table. "Do...do you get a lot of same sex couples?"

"Not a lot. A fair number, though. I always serve them. Well, me or my fiancé, but he's working in the kitchen today."

"How long have you two been together?" James asked, smiling at the boy.

He shrugged, pushing back his dyed blue hair. "About two years. What about you too?"

"Around a month. A little longer."

Jason smiled. "Cool. Now, I guess I'm actually supposed to get your order. Do you have a drink in mind? I doubt either of you are older than twenty one, so don't try me."

"Just water," James said with a smile. "You got us."

"Water too," Thomas said. "Thanks."

The food came at 8:20. Thomas ordered roast chicken with raspberry sauce and James decided on apple turkey salad- the lease expensive thing on the menu. Thomas had insisted that he shouldn't worry about price but James insisted that he felt guilty getting expensive food. As soon as they had gotten their orders, Thomas dumped a piece of chicken in James' plate.

"You know you want it," he said, smiling in a such a way that James couldn't say no.

"Thanks," he muttered, blushing.

The meal continued without further hindrance. They didn't speak much at first, too busy enjoying their food.

"This is our first date," Thomas said softly, looking up. "Does it suffice?"

"It does," James said, keeping a straight face. "But what comes after should tower over this." He squeezed Thomas' knee. Thomas choked on his water.

"I hate you," he groaned.

"No you don't." Thomas laughed at James barely hidden smile, drawing the attention of an older couple a few seats away from them.

"Quiet," the husband snapped. "And get your hands off each other. It's disgusting." His wife nodded in agreement, her beady eyes glaring at them.

Thomas started to the pull his away but James pinned it down. "Don't," he murmured. "Sorry sir, I couldn't hear what you said over your bigotry and homophobia," he told the man.

"It's indecent," the woman trilled. "It's unnatural."

Thomas shrugged. "Seems pretty natural to me. Listen, the LGBTQ community is here to stay so I suggest taking that bigoted sick out of your ass and replacing it with a dick. You might find yourself in a better mood then."

The man was rapidly turning purple with rage and James choked on his salad. A few people at neighboring tables looked over in concern and alarm.

"I will report you," the man hissed.

James stood up, walking over to Thomas, sitting down beside, and kissing him passionately for a long minute. Behind them, they could hear the man and his wife spluttering in rage and disgust.

"We could fuck," Thomas murmured against his lips. 

"And get arrested," James pointed out, pulling away. "We can do that later if you hurry up eating."

Thomas grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "I though you liked it when I took my time."

"At certain times," James pointed out, crossing his legs. Thomas eyed them with interest. "Eat your goddamn chicken."

Thirty minutes later, they were walking out the door. It was nearly 9:10 and dark out. The wind was frigid and biting and salty from the ocean miles away but James' hand was warm and soft in Thomas'. The streets were lit with an artificial amber glow from street lamps and the lanes, previously packed with cars bumper to bumper, were empty.

Neither Thomas or James noticed the three men in the shadows behind a parked car.

They walked for a few minutes, detouring to look at the Christmas lights hanging around on the shops and restaurants, before Thomas stopped, glancing behind them. "What is it?" James asked.

"Nothing," Thomas said, still gazing behind them. "Thought I heard something."

James shrugged and, hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder, they kept walking. The entire area was quiet, sleepy. Few people wanted to be out in the cold. Gold lights lit up an area under a shop, illuminating Thomas's eyes. James sighed, gazing at his boyfriend's profile, the curve of his nose and slope of his forehead. His hair was on fire in red and gold lights, dripping down every curl on his head and making him painfully beautiful. Not for the first time, James was breathless. Unable to help himself, he pressed a kiss to Thomas's cheek.

"What was that for?" Thomas asked, eyes glowing with affection as he looked over at James.

"You're beautiful," James said earnestly, shrugging. "Do I need more reasons?"

Thomas sighed, cheeks a hint more red that previously. "James," he said, stopping. "I... I want to say something to you. I don't know if it's too early to or something but.." he laughed, shaking his head. "I'm so nervous you'd think I was proposing." James felt butterflies rise in his stomach. “I just…I've never said it to anyone before.”

"I feel like it's something I've been waiting to say for a while too," he admitted softly.

Movement caught the corner of his eye and what happened next was a blur of pain and darkness.  
Three grown men, well out of college, charged them. One knocked Thomas to the ground, causing him to cry out in pain, a sound that resonated so deeply in James' heart that it felt like a punch. The other two pounced on James, pinning him against the concrete. James kicked, trying to break free but their filthy hands were checking his pockets, pulling out his wallet and keys and pocketing them. Out of his line of vision, the man holding Thomas gave a cry. One of the attackers on top of James rushed away, helping subdue Thomas.

"James!" Thomas screamed, fighting like his life depended on it. And who knew? It might.

"Thomas!" James screamed back.   
Thomas struggled against the firm hands of the men. One of them had thrown his phone onto the sidewalk, the other pulled him into the alleyway, away from the open. Every punch and kicked that was thrown glanced off of him. He could tell he was bleeding and he didn't care because James was screaming and the men around them were hissing slurs, like "cocksuckers", and "faggots". Rage blinded him and he spun around, kicking towards one of the men's heads. The man dropped.

"Get away," snarled Thomas, freed from their grips. "I swear to god, step away."

James let out a cry of pain and Thomas pushed the other man over, running towards him and delivering a sharp kick to the man crouching over him. "Are you okay?" he demanded, frantically running his hands over James' body, checking for injury.

"I'm alright," James gasped, sitting up. He was wincing with every movement and there was blood on the side of his face. Suddenly, his eyes widened in fear. " _Thomas_ -!"

Two of the three men grabbed his arms, pulling him up and away from James who was subdued by the third man. A sharp, stabbing pain penetrated his neck and he heard James scream in horror and the dizzy though, "I've been drugged" crossed his mind briefly.

This was how he'd die, in an alley with his boyfriend watching him. He felt himself being dragged away, lifted up. He forced failing and exhausted eyes on James, forcing his mouth to work. If he was going to die, he needed to tell James something. He needed to say it at least once. What was it? "I lo-" 

Suddenly, he was being thrown. There was a sharp, splitting pain, and a a heartbreaking scream from James. At 9:26, everything went black.

Whatever happened next was blurred into one long moment of horror and blind rage. The two men who had been holding Thomas had thrown him into a wall. His head had hit with a resounding crack and he wasn't moving. He wasn't moving. James couldn't tell if he was even breathing. What if-? 

Through a haze of red and split knuckles, James found himself free of his captor, had found that he had sent them running. He skidded to a stop near where Thomas lay crumpled and silent against the wall dropping beside him, hands scrambling for a pulse. 

For a second, James felt nothing. Then, softly, an erratic, weak pulse to match shallow and spastic breathing he could hardly hear over blood rushing in his ears. James almost started crying in relief. But Thomas wasn't stirring. He showed no signs of consciousness.

"Thomas?" James whispered, shaking him. There was blood, dark and sticky and warm on his hands and on the concrete. "Thomas, wake up!" Thomas's head lolled side to side. He didn't stir.

James lifted him up carefully, cradling his head against his chest. Blood seeped through his jacket and he scrambled against the concrete for his phone, praying it hadn't broken when the men had thrown it. 

In the amber glare of the streetlight, one long crack was illuminated across the screen. James held his breath, praying it would turn on. When it did, he almost started sobbing, typing in 911 and calling, almost in tears.

" _911, what's your-_ "

"My boyfriend and I were attacked by two men. He...he's unconscious and bleeding but I can't tell where from. We need help." James took a deep breath. Everything felt surreal, like he'd wake up at home any second.

" _Are you alright? We're sending an ambulance over."_

"I hit my head pretty hard but I'm not hurt. They injected him with some kind of sedative. Please, we need help." He applauded himself for staying so calm. "We're in the alley on Jackson street and Ramos."

" _We are on our way. Stay on the line._ "

"Thank you," James breathed, forcing his tears back. He needed to stay strong for Thomas. "Hurry."

It was 9:41 when the ambulance, blaring red and blue, pulling to a stop and a team of medics rushed out. Everything felt surreal when the medics pushed James away from Thomas, guiding him onto a stretcher where he could tame the queasiness in his stomach.

Suddenly he leaned over and heaved and heaved until it felt like his guts would come out. It was like the world was black and white. As if his ears were stuffed with cotton and the entire world was in slow motion. 

James rode in the ambulance with Thomas, holding his hand and whispering against his clammy forehead the entire ride to the hospital. Nurses and medics walked by, draping a blanket over James' shoulders and shinning lights into his eyes. Someone hooked Thomas up to some machine, telling James in a soft voice that they didn't know of Thomas would even wake up.

It was the longest ride of James' life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, oh my god, thank you so much for almost 4000 hits! It's means so much to me that so many people like my weird "I'm bored and it's 1am" story. Thanks for reading!


	32. Chapter 32

Lafayette had been the first person who had been called by James after they arrived at the hospital.

At first, he had been at a loss for who to tell, but he knew that Thomas loved Laf like a sibling, and it only seemed right that they know. His hands had shaken to the point that he didn't know if he could even press the screen. He'd have used his own phone but the battery was very nearly dead. Thankfully, he simply had to search Thomas' few contacts. His password was JaM35.

" _Hello_?" Laf answered. " _Thomas_?"

James stopped breathing for a second. "Lafayette? It's James."

" _James? Hi. What is it?_ " They sounded concerned, picking up on his shaking voice.

"Where are you right now?"

They hesitated. " _I'm with Herc. We're at a cafe. Why?_ "

"Listen," James said, hoping his voice wouldn't fail him, "we were attacked by three men. I'm alright but Thomas...Thomas is in the hospital. They won't tell me anything." The word ended in a sob. "You should come."

Laf was silent for a long moment. " _How bad?"_ they asked, shocked. " _I'm coming right now._ "

"They won't tell me. I've been in the fucking waiting room." Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes and he let out a sob of frustration and grief.

_"I'm coming. Herc's coming with me...that's okay, right? What happened? What did they do to him?"_  
"I don't know," James whispered. "They injected him with a sedative and threw him against a wall. I was pinned down, couldn't do anything. Of course Herc can come. Hurry." He hung up, hunching over his chair.

Thomas was more than family to him, and even the barely over a month of dating James knew that he would rip the sun and stars from the sky for him. The thought of loosing him was impossibly terrifying.

  
"James Madison?"

James looked up, eyes red. "Yeah?" He stood up, heart thundering against his ribs. "That's me."

The man who had called him was short and portly and balding. His eyes were those of a man who had seen death all his life. "Dr. Martinez," he introduced. "Mr. Madison, we need to talk to you. The police are waiting."

"Police?"

"Three men attacked you and your...boyfriend. This was a hate crime, I assume?"

James blinked, trying to clear his head. "I guess. I'm not entirely sure but I think it's most likely. Is Thomas okay?"

The man didn't answer and James' stomach dropped. "I'll be taking you to questioning now."

"Is he okay?" Nothing. "You have to tell me!"

"I don't have to tell you anything. You aren't his family, so I don't have to give you information."

James but his lip. This, he knew, was true. Doctors were not obligated to disclose patients information to anyone but direct family. "He...we're engaged," he lied. "I'm his family."

"You don't have rings."

"The attackers stole his and I didn't wear mine."

The man gave him a suspicious look. "Why?"

"Aren't the police supposed to be doing the questioning?" James asked. "Also, another person is coming. They're also the closest family he's got. A cousin from France."

"We aren't authorized to disclose information to anyone but direct family."

James felt annoyance brewing in his chest. "We are his family," he snapped. “It's not like his father would care! Tell me!”

The man huffed and turned away. "No. Follow me." He lead him into a little room on the right where two police officers sat, waiting.

James sat down across from them, fiddling with his hands.  
"Mr. Madison?" a tall, muscular female officer asked. Her hair was cloaked in a blue hijab. "I'm officer Zia. This," she gestured to a blond man next to her, "is my partner, Officer Wood."

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," Wood said. "About the attack."

James sighed. "I know. Can we finish this quickly? I need to see if my boyfriend is okay."

"I understand," Zia said. "This won't take long."

"Alright," James said slowly.

"Where were you when they attacked you?" Wood asked.

James thought for a moment. "Jackson street. They pushed us into the alley between Jackson and Ramos."

"Describe everything you remember."

"There were three. Adults, from what I would tell. Men. Two went for Thomas and one for me. They cracked my phone but it still worked, threw his on to the sidewalk. I suppose they wanted us...wanted us dead. Thomas got free. He tried to..." his voice broke. "He tried to help me but they injected him with some sedative, threw him against a wall. I fought off the rest of them. I don't...don't remember how. He wouldn't wake up." James wiped his eyes, fighting to keep it together.

Wood's eyes softened. "I'm sorry. Do you need a moment?"

"No."

"Very well," Zia said. "What were you doing right before the attack?"

James thought back, struggling to think past the attack. "We were walking. Holding hands. We'd just left the diner on Monroe. He was about to tell me something and then they jumped up."

"Anything else? Every detail helps.”

"No.

In the end it took twenty minutes of probing and hasty details. James was out by 10:23 where he was forced back into the waiting room. Once more, there was no information about Thomas's condition. As he entered, Lafayette stood up, anxiously eyeing him.

"James," they said, almost running over to him. "Have they told you anything?"

James shook his head. "I told them that we were engaged- which you know we aren't- and they still told me nothing. I told them you were his cousin and they said you couldn't know anything. The police marked it as a hate crime."

"Really?" Laf said, looking exhausted. They gestured James back to the seating area and sank into a chair beside Hercules Mulligan, who glanced away awkwardly. "I can't believe this."

"Neither can I," James sighed. "They won't tell me anything."

Laf leaned against Herc's arm. "Thanks for being here," they said softly.

"It's not a problem," Herc responded in a voice so gentle that it actually brought tears to James' eyes. One leaked down his cheek. Laf gripped his hand.

There was nothing remotely romantic about it, just a need for a comfort that couldn't be provided.

James let out a sob, leaning unconsciously towards Laf. They wrapped an arm around his shoulders, allowing him to settle next to them and cry. A tear dropped on the back of James' neck. He looked up see Laf staring straight ahead, clutching Herc's hand, silent tears dripping down their face.

James closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. So much had happened and he was tired but also wide awake. He wanted to curl up and sleep for one thousand years but he knew that without Thomas curled around him, it would be rocky and scattered. He missed Thomas so much, was so scared for him. And he had been about to say something, something important.

James wondered if he would ever know what it was or if he'd be doomed to an unfinished line and a life without the boy he truly loved.

It was 10:35 when a doctor called Laf and James up. Herc smiled, squeezing Laf's hand before they left. Anxiety churned James' stomach to the point where he thought he might puke. The sounds were overwhelming, the smell of hospital and sickness surrounded him. He needed Thomas. He needed Thomas. He needed Thomas. He had to be strong. To keep it together. Thomas wouldn't want this to happen. James took a steadying breath, following Laf up to the front. 

The doctor was a young woman who introduced herself as Dr. Sterns. Her face was young and pretty but her eyes were old and hard. "I'm afraid we're going to have to keep Mr. Jefferson for a while. He broke a rib, puncturing a lung. A small part of his skull has cracked and one of his ribs snagged and we are currently operating on internal bleeding and a busted lung," she said bluntly. "We are unsure of brain damage and will have to see what his mental condition is if he wakes up."

"If?" Laf asked, eyes shinning with fear.

She sighed, adjusting her purple glasses. "He is at risk of slipping into a coma."

The world stopped. Clocks froze, stopped dead at 10:37pm. The world turned upside down and James couldn't breathe, couldn't hear. Everything was blurry. Next to him, Laf stumbled as if they were about to collapse and he grabbed their arm, keeping them up. Herc rushed forward, wrapping an arm around Laf's wait and hoisting them into a chair.

"Are you alright?" The doctor asked, alarmed.

Laf smiled emptily, pulling themself together. "He's the closest thing to family I've got," they said. "If something happened to him..." Herc flinched back as if slapped and James felt a stir of pity.

"I understand," the doctor said earnestly. "My twin sister was in a coma from a car crash when we were eight. She never did wake up. I became a doctor so I could make sure that didn't happen as often. We won't let him die."

"I'm sorry," James said softly. "Thank you." 

She smiled. "We'll keep you updated when he comes out of surgery." She then turned, and walked away.

Herc looked down. Then at Laf. "Closest thing to family, huh?" James shifted away awkwardly. This wasn't a conversation he was meant to hear.

Laf sighed, looking over at Herc. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

They fidgeted. "I'm not sure."

Herc shook his head, looking away.

Laf ached to hug Herc but knew the gesture would be unwelcome, especially now. Sometimes they'd think back to Herc's confession and wonder what would happen if they had kissed him right there.

There had been times when they'd wanted to. There had been times, even before Alex and them had broken up, when they'd wanted to kiss him. But could that be called love? They did love Herc. Loved him for saving them, for being there for them no matter what but they never knew what love it was. Laf sighed again, looking away. It didn't matter. It was too late now anyways.

Always too late.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of past suicide attempt

In the end, they sat in that waiting room for six hours all throughout the night. It was nearly five in the morning when someone finally came with news on Thomas's condition. His name was Dr. Moñoz, and James knew he would never forget the moment at exactly 4:56 in the morning.

"Mr. Madison and Mr. Lafayette," he called from the front. James' head jerked up from where it was resting on his chest. Laf lowered their eyes at the misgendering but swallowed and started to make their way up to the doctor, James at their side. Herc had stayed behind, not close enough to Thomas to feel as if he had a right to intrude.

"How is he?" James asked, anxiety threatening to smother him again. As if sensing this, Laf wrapped their long, slender hand around his wrist.

Moñoz looked at them gravely. "He's out of surgery but that does not mean he's in the clear yet. Mr. Jefferson is not yet breathing on his own and we are unsure of any brain damage that will affect his speech or memory. This is highly likely, you must understand."

James felt lightheaded. He gripped Laf's arm, trying to ground himself. His head spun with the realization that Thomas might not remember him. He didn't know if he could life with himself if that happened. "Can we see him?" he asked shakily. "Please?"

The man's eyes softened as he took in the massive bags under red eyes. "Of course." He gestured down the hallway, leading them into the elevator which took them up to the second floor. "Second room on the right."

James was shaking almost too hard to walk and could tell Laf was on the verge of a breakdown. He took their arm, grounding both of them as they neared the room. The sight he saw next was one nothing could have prepared him for.

He had seen Thomas cry, he had seen Thomas become undone beneath him and seen him in some of his worst moments. He had held Thomas when he sobbed in the middle of the night, telling James that he was so fucking tired of everything. He had watched Thomas build up and break down like some magnificent sculpture, but he had never seen him look this vulnerable.

Now, he was hooked up to a machine that breathed for him because his lungs failed to do the simple task. There was a heart monitor beside him, reading that his heart was slower that it should be, and an IV drip in his arm. He himself looked small and fragile- two words never used to describe Thomas Jefferson- amidst the white sheets and blue hospital gown. His entire being looked shrunken and weak. There were bandages across his head and a part of his hair was shaven. James almost started to cry, knowing how much he would hate that. Laf let out a broken sob, dropping to their knees beside the bed.

They took his limp hand in their own, tears falling down their cheeks. This was terrifying in the worst possible way: to see someone you loved and cared for as if they were your own kin lying in a hospital bed with possible brain damage. This was one to the worst pains imaginable. Laf pressed a kiss to Thomas's knuckle, sending a prayer up to every power they could think of that he would be alright.

James set a hand on their shoulder, eyes never straying from Thomas's still face. "Lafayette," he said softly, "are you okay?"

"Not really," Laf answered, not bothering to lie. They were far too tired mentally and physically. "You?"

James huffed a laugh. "I've never been so far from 'alright' in my life."

"You love him, don't you?" Laf turned to look at James, who tensed slightly. "I mean like really, truly, deeply love."

James didn't hesitate. "With every part of me."

"You know that I love him too, right? Not like you, of course. He's my brother, one of my best friends. He saved my life once, and I have yet to repay him."

"What happened?" James asked, curious. "Laf?"

_"Laf?"_

_Laf turned around, the wind hitting them in the face, buffeting their hair. "Thomas? Go home."  
_

_Thomas edged closer, cautious, slow, gentle. That panic in his voice was barely controlled. "Please. Come with me. We're okay, you're okay." His eyes flickered to the edge of the bridge. "We can fix this. We can fix everything." Laf looked away, out at the open water, the rushing stream, trying to block him out but Thomas persisted. "Do you think I could live with myself if I let you do this? Do you think Herc could? Your life isn't your own anymore. We love you. Herc loves you, I love you!"  
_

_Laf let out a sob, clutching the railing they had climbed. "Leave me alone!" they shouted, determined not to be swayed.  
_

_"Lafayette!" Thomas shouted, raising his voice over the water and wind. "Get down here. I'm begging you, please don't do this." Laf could hear the tears in his voice. "I don't know what I'd do without you! I can't go on without you!"_

_"You don't know what it's like!" Laf shouted, angry tears falling down their face. "Being misgendered on the daily, dysphoria, being a disgrace to your family! It would be easier not to have to deal with this!"_

_"And you don't know what it's like," Thomas retaliated with a sharp tone, "to watch your best friend balancing on the edge of a precipice, above deadly waters. Please, there are other options."  
_

_"Yeah? What will you do? Take me to a psych ward?"  
_

_"If I have to!"_

_Laf laughed, sharp and short and harsh. "You do that and I will kill myself!" Their eyes were blurry with tears._

_"Then I won't," he said softly. "But let us take care of you. Let us help you! Laf, we both love you so much. You're our best friend! I promise on my life that we'll take care of you. You don't want to do this. You don't want to die. You want to be saved."  
_

_Laf wiped their eyes, the words resonating deeply. "Thom-"  
_

_"Come on. Promise me you'll never come back here."  
_

_"I can't promise that," they said quietly, looking down at the river._

_Thomas held out a hand. "Please."_

_"You know I can't."_

_"Then we will drag you to a ward."_

_Laf glared at him. "That's not fair."_

_"Neither is this."_

_"Fine," they sighed. "I Promise."  
_

_Thomas held out a hand and Laf slowly, hesitantly, reached down and took it, swinging onto safe ground where they collapsed into Thomas's waiting arms and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.  
_

_They never went back to that bridge and they never broke that promise_.

"Laf?"

Laf blinked, focusing in on James. "Oh, sorry! When I first came here, I was having some, ah...difficulties. Thomas helped me through them." James nodded slowly.

"He never told me the story."

"He doesn't like to talk about it."

James nodded, brushing a gentle hand over Thomas' face. "I can understand why. You know that he loves you, right?" Laf looked away, tears running down their cheeks. "He tells me about how you first met, your lessons with him to learn English. I can see in his eyes just how much he loves you. You're like a sibling to him."

"I know," Laf replied softly. "I just...he loves you too. More than me, more than anything."

"Are you jealous?" It wasn't a taunt, but an honest question.

Laf fiddled with the end of their blouse. "I little. But he's happy and that's what matters and, honestly, I don't think I've ever seen him more...alive...than when I picked you two up from that field."

James laughed at the memory. "I couldn't believe we did that."

"Me neither."

James cleared his throat. “You know that he will always choose you over me, right? He’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

Laf wiped their eyes. “Really?”

“You didn't know that?”

They looked down, and that was answer enough for James. “Does it bother you?” they asked softly.

“Never.” He looked over at Laf, eyes sad and soft. "Are you alright?"

"Now or in general?"

"In general."

They sighed, contemplating their words for a moment. "No. No, not at all."

"Why?"

"I...I think fucked up big time."

"How?" He tilted his head with an air of curiosity.

They fiddled with their hands, eyes on Thomas' still face. "I...I do like Herc. I said I didn't, I guess I'm reaping the consequences. I realize this isn't the time or place..."

"Oh... no, it's fine." James was actually grateful for the distraction, something to help push away the pain of the unimaginable.

Laf sighed. "I think I've been...in denial. I knew I felt this way before, when I was with Alex, but I didn't want to acknowledge it because we were together. When Alex and I broke up, Herc told me that he loved me. I didn't know what to do so I...I told him that I didn't feel the same way."

"But you do."

"Absolutely."

"Tell him. After this, go down and tell him."

"I don't know h-" the heart monitor began beeping faster, faster, faster. Laf's eyes widened in terror. They hit the call nurse button as fast as they could. The monitor started screaming.

James was stunned, clutching Thomas's hand to his lips and mumbling prayers into it. Nurses and doctors rushed into the room, pushing Laf and James to the side, and crowding the bed.

James caught the word "flatline" and "cardiac arrest", and nearly passed out, leaning against the wall for support. Laf was fumbling for their phone, calling Herc.  
"Something's happening," they shouted into the phone, raising their voice above the noise and confusion. "I can't see what's happening...oh my god. What's happening?" Their voice and breathing were verging on hysteria and James took the phone from their hands.

"Second floor, two rooms to the right," he said, hanging up.

The monitor was still screaming, the sound surrounding them, drilling into both of their minds, deafening. The sounds of the nurses combined with the roar of the monitor created an insane buzz that reached into their bones, to every corner of the room. It was overwhelming, constant, buzzing into their very beings, pressing itself into their nightmares.

Herc burst in, eyes widening as he took in the scene. For a moment, he stood frozen to the spot, then he grabbed Laf, pulling them against his chest and shielding them from some invisible enemy that surrounded them. "Breathe with me," he whispered. "Come on."

The monitor stopped screaming. A deafening silence fell over the room, except for the steady beeps of the monitor, signaling a heartbeat. The doctors backed away, writing something down and standing away from the bed. "It's alright," one of the doctors said to James. "He's alright."

"What happened?" James asked.

"Not my field. I guess cardiac arrest. Don't know what caused it. He'll be monitored over the next few hours but his brain activity has spiked. He might wake up soon."

"Thank god," Laf breathed, turning their face away from Herc's chest. 

"He's not in the clear yet," a short, plump woman said. "There's always a risk."

Laf nodded, stepping towards the bed. They pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead and sat back down on the chair by his bedside. "I don't know what I would have done if we'd lost him," they breathed.

"Yeah," James whispered, shaking so hard that he slowly slid down the wall, legs failing him. "Yeah." Exhaustion slowly crept into his bones, making it so he couldn't move.

Herc looked around awkwardly, looking to join the exodus of doctors pouring out of the room. "I should go..." he said awkwardly.

"Stay," Laf said softly. "Please."

Herc looked like he might protest but sighed and nodded instead, coming to sit down on the floor next to Laf and take their hand. "You alright?" A barely there nod. "Are you lying?" Another nod. 

"I'll be fine," Laf said. "It's not me who we need to worry about right now."

James gathered himself, walking to sit on Laf's other side. "I can't believe this," he said hollowly. "It doesn't feel real."

"I know."

"I feel like I'm about to wake up and he'll be next to me. Safe. Like this was all a nightmare."

Laf nodded. "I want nothing more than to wake up to a text from him. I want this to be a terrible, fucked up dream." Herc gripped their hand. As if a silent message passed between them, coded in a language James couldn't read, Herc squeezed Laf's wrist, tenderly stroking their hand. They almost smiled, dropping their head onto his shoulder.

They sat there for two hours, agreeing that if by 7:30 there had been no change, they would go home for the night. At 6:59, the monitor picked up, beeping faster and faster again. Herc lunged for the call nurse button just as Thomas' eyes flashed open, and he began choking on the cords in his throat.

Instinctively, James rushed to gently push him back down, worry stabbing him. "Breathe," he whispered. "Thomas, breathe."

Thomas' eyes were wild and terrified, confusion and pain etched in every line of worry on his face. Behind James, they fell on Lafayette and he relaxed slightly, still fighting until a nurse arrived.

"Alright," she said soothingly, nudging James away, "Thomas? I'm gonna need you to cough for me, alright? And we're gonna get this out of you. On the count of three now, alright? One...two...three."

Thomas coughed, gasping as she removed the cord. He gulped in deep gasps of air, trying to calm himself. He didn't know where he was, his head pounded whenever he tried to think back. "Thanks," he rasped, thrown sore. She offered him water, holding it as he drank deeply. Above the door, a clock read 7:03. "What...where am I?"

"Hospital," said the boy who had tried to hold him down. "We were worried you wouldn't make it."

Thomas tried to think but he couldn't. His mind was foggy and sluggish and confusion swirled around him like mist. "I'm sorry," he said slowly, "who are you?"  
  



	34. Chapter 34

Alex yawned, burying his face deeper in his sweater as they walked through the airport. He was exhausted and it was hardly 7:05 in the morning. The flight to South Carolina was at 8:00 and John insisted they had to be there early or else they'd miss the flight. They'd woken up at maybe 5:45.

"Tired, little lion?" John asked affectionately.

"Take a fucking hint," Alex grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sure it's a mystery."

He laughed, pointing up ahead. "Our gate."

"Why'd we get here so early?"

"So we could get food, and not miss our flight. There's a Starbucks up that way, by the way. We are going to get some coffee."

Alex's eyes widened and he kissed John's cheek. "You read my mind."

"Love you too." John threaded his fingers through Alex's, raising their joined hands to his lips. "Are we becoming one of those couples?" he asked, eyes widening in mock fear.

"I'm afraid we are," Alex joked gravely.

John laughed. "Oh god, what have we become?"

"Monsters."

"It's not a lie."

Alex stopped walking, pulling John to stand by the wall. "Speaking of monsters, I promise you that no matter what happens, your father will not lay a hand on you. But you cannot lay a harmful hand on yourself either, and you have to promise me that." His large eyes were worried and one hundred percent serious.

John hesitated a moment, greatly moved. He didn't want to make a promise that he couldn't keep but Alex looked so small and concerned that he couldn't help but agree. "Promise." Then he smiled. "Killed the moment, Alex."

  
"Shut up." He nodded, apparently satisfied. "Don't be so nervous."

"I'm not."

"You are. I can tell."

"So are you," John retaliated.

"I'm nervous for you."

"Don't be."

Alex smiled, squeezing his hand. "I can't help it," he said. "I love you."

"I love you too, dear boy." John's phone started buzzing and he pulled it out of his pocket. "It's Laf. Babe, can you get me some coffee?"

Alex blushed at the pet name but complied. "Of course. Usual?"

"Yeah." John put the phone to his ear. "Hi?" Immediately, a stream of mixed French and English poured out of the phone. Laf voice was hysterical and worry surrounded him. "Laf? Laf, I'm here. Calm down, okay?"

_"He doesn't remember! He doesn't remember me! This can't be happening, this can't- he doesn't. I..."_ There line went quiet and John heard talking on the other end, slow and soothing.

"Lafayette?" John asked again, softly.

" _John_ ," Laf said in a significantly calmer voice, brimming with grief, " _I should start from the beginning._ " With what seemed like excruciating pain, Laf recounted the horrifying story of James and Thomas' date, and the attack that followed. They detailed the attack to the best of their knowledge and how James had called them from the hospital. Their voice broke down when they said that Thomas had gone into cardiac arrest and his heart had actually stopped for a while, they started crying when they said how he had woken up. How he had looked around and asked who they were. " _He didn't remember me,"_ Laf said hollowly. " _He didn't remember me."_

"Laf," John said softly, unsure of what to say. He hadn't expected this to happen and the shock of it was coursing through him like an electric current. "I wish we could do something but we're about to fly to South Carolina and I can't miss it. Is Herc there?" His chest ached. He had known Jefferson since he was a child, when his mother was still alive. Even if they didn't get along well, he still felt a pang in his heart at the thought of what had happened to him.

" _Yes_ ," they said. Then, " _I don't know what I'd do without him._ "

"James?"

Laf was silent for a moment. " _He's not doing very well. We left the hospital and we're at their apartment right now. He's locked up in Thomas and his room and won't come out. But we expected that."_

Alex arrived back with their coffee. "What's up?" Catching sight of John's greyish face, he set the coffee aside and lead John to a seat in the nearest terminal. "You alright?"

John shook his head, holding up a hand. "I understand. Laf, I wish I could do more. Call us if there is any change. Stay with Herc, you need each other."

" _I know. Thank you._ " They hung up.

Immediately after setting the phone down, John turned and pulled Alex against his chest, heaving in deep, shaking breaths as the realization crashed down on him. God, he didn't want to imagine what it would be like to be in James' shoes right now. He couldn't imagine the empty horror and pain of knowing the person you loved didn't remember you. That they looked at you and you were a stranger. He didn't like Thomas or James a lot but this was something so horrible that he would rather die than have it happen and his heart broke in pity for the pair. Alex hugged him back, stroking his hair in fluid, calming gestures.

"It's okay," Alex murmured. "What happened?"

Without ever leaving his arms, John repeated what Laf had told him, stumbling over the story. When he got to the end, he hugged Alex even tighter, feeling the other boy clutch him firmly. "I just imagined if you...I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if you forgot me," he whispered in a breaking voice. "I love you."

"I love you too. Dear God,” he whispered. “I can't imagine…I'd rather die that have ever happen to us." He stood up, keeping one hand in John's. "You okay?" 

John nodded, not wanting to admit how shaken he really was. He didn't want to talk about his past with Jefferson. "Yeah. You?”

“Shaken, but yeah.” Alex smiled, handing him the coffee. "We've got an hour until boarding. We don't have to go if you don't want to."

"I have to."

"No, you don't."

John shook his head. "I do. My sisters...Alex, I miss them so much."

"I can't wait to meet them. Are they like you?"

He shrugged. "Martha's a little like me but more like my dad. She's nicer, of course. Mary's a younger and female version of me." His face split into a reluctant smile at the mention of his sisters.

"You've never talked about them before," Alex noticed.

"I don't like to."

Alex nodded, deciding not to press the subject. "I love you," he said softly.

"Love you too."

Alex cocked his head. "Really, I do. And it's funny. We really haven't even known each other that long, if you think about it."

John thought for a moment. "Wow," he said. "I didn't realize it's been such a short while. I remember when we first met."

"I think I'll always remember it."

John sighed. "We should go back to that beach someday."

"It's not even a mile from our apartment. We can go when we get back," Alex said, smiling. "Hopefully under better circumstances that the last two times."

"Okay, true. I'd love that, going down to the water again." He sighed, imagining the feeling of the wind in his hair.

They drifted into silence, leaning against each other and sipping their coffee. It was peaceful, calm, yet neither of them could get their minds off of Jefferson. What had happened to him was their worst nightmare. Alex squeezed John's arm, pushing away the thought of the unimaginable pain James must be in. John leaned closer, as if sensing it.

Alex smiled, checking his phone. "Time to board," he said softly.

That moment, the announcements came on, calling first class passengers to board. "That's us." At least Henry had been thoughtful enough to get first class.

They slowly walked amidst the myriad of people, hand in hand and looking extremely out of place, to the plane. Alex slid in, closest to the window. His face looked more pale that usual. John squeezed his arm, sliding their bags up and tucking them away. "What's wrong?"

Alex shrugged. "I have a thing about flying."

"A thing?" John's eyes widened in concern. "You should have told me! I wouldn't have asked you to go if I knew."

"It's just because I came to America during a pretty bad storm." Alex smiled awkwardly.

"You shouldn't have come," John said, kissing his forehead.

"You really think I would have let you face your father alone?" he asked. "I'd have gone anyways."  
 

John sighed, wrapping an arm around him. "How bad?"

"Not too bad."

"Worse that storms?"

He thought for a moment, as if weighing the two. "A little less."

"You should have told me."

"You had enough on your mind. You can't hold everything in, no matter how hard you try." Alex squeezed his hand. "And I know you try."

John nodded silently. He imagined what James must be going through, the heartbreak and pain. His grip on Alex's hand tightened. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

Alex didn't answer. An old man sat down next to them, giving an annoyed glance at the joined hands and lovestruck eyes. John looked at Alex nervously as the man sighed and rolled his eyes. He squeezed John's hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. John seemed to melt. "Ready?" he said softly.

"No."

Alex laughed softly. "Yeah, me neither. But it'll be fine."  
 

"I hope."

Alex was silent, digging around for something to say, to distract him. “What do you think you'll want to do when you're older?” Surprisingly, John never talked about that. Obviously, Alex wanted to go into law, become a senator, perhaps Treasury Secretary, but John never said anything.

  
John shrugged, squeezing his hand. “I want to start a safe house,” he said softly. “For LGBT kids who need to stay somewhere. I don't know how I'd get the money, I've never really had a plan.” _Because I never thought I'd live to even start fulfilling it._

Alex smiled. “I love you for saying that. I'll help you.” He felt constrained already, the area too small. He had to push that away.

A young woman stepped into the isle, demonstrating what to do in the event of an emergency. Alex closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing. Everything would be fine, he knew. But there was the feeling of being trapped in a flying metal vehicle along with so many other people, any of which could be plotting to blow up the plane, or the chance of it going down and having to know that he would die. Knowing he'd die next to John and the mother's and father's and babies alongside them. He'd never had a problem with the idea of death when it was in his control. He'd seen enough in his life to know what to expect.

John leaned over, pulling Alex's head onto his chest and holding him there, a constant, a solid reminder that everything was fine.

Everything was fine.


	35. Chapter 35

It was 9:50 in the morning. James sat staring emptily at the wall, holding Thomas's ridiculous magenta sweater tightly around him, breathing in the scent of rosemary and coffee- a scent so distinctly Thomas that James almost broke down right there.

The memories were fresh, vivid, and as cutting as a knife. He had woken up in this bed only yesterday, next to Thomas. Only yesterday had they decided to go on their first proper date and only yesterday Thomas had known who he was.

" _I'm sorry...who are you?_ "

James let out a dry sob, looking down at his hands. They were shaking, the knuckles split from punching their attackers. He hadn't spoken to either Laf or Herc since they had arrived at the apartment and both of them insisted that they would stay with him until everything got better.

If it ever did.

The world around him was black and white. It seemed that the second the nurse had said in that stunned and sorrowful voice, " _he doesn't remember you,_ " the color had leeched from the universe.

The vibrant pinks and blues and yellows that brought the world to life had been taken by the ever present grief of knowing that the man you loved saw you through the eyes of a stranger. Of course, the world wasn't literally a black and white plane of existence, but it truly did feel like one. It was hell on Earth.

Someone knocked on the door, soft and mournful. Lafayette opened it, causing a thin beam of light grey light to fall into the dark grey room. They were holding a grey first aid kit. Silently, they walked in, sitting down next to James and taking his hand, cleaning the grey blood off with a damp towel. James started sobbing.

"I know," Laf murmured, voice thick. "Let it out. It's okay."

James nodded tearfully. "I just..." another sob broke him off.

"I understand," they soothed. "I can't imagine what it's like for you."

He shook his head, pulling his hand away to wipe his eyes. "No. I haven't known him nearly as long as you. I can't imagine what the must be like."

"But you love him."

"So do you, just in different ways."

They smiled sadly, gently applying grey cream to his knuckles. Their hands were soft and manicured, unlike Thomas'. "Listen, we aren't fighting over this. It's not a competition. It's terrible and I would die to change it. Alex texted me saying that John sort of…broke down a little when he heard."  
"Really?"

"John's rather...what's the word? Empathetic. He probably imagined how it would be if it had been Alex in the hospital. He also knew Thomas, back when they were both children. They were friends.”

James winced as Laf prodded his hand. "Oh. He's never mentioned that.”

"Yeah. There are some…bad memories associated with it. Some he wouldn't even tell me.”

"Do you...do you still love him? Alex?" He didn't know where the question came from, but he needed to get away from this topic.

Laf froze, face softening. "No. He couldn't be happy with me, I couldn't be happy if he wasn't." They concentrated on bandaging his knuckles.

"You didn't answer me. Not really."

Laf sighed, running a hand through their tangled and loose hair. James couldn't help but notice how similar they and Thomas looked. He just couldn't escape him- everywhere he looked, he saw something that reminded him of the boy he loved.

"A little," they confessed, voice hardly lorder than a whisper.

James nodded, praying Herc hadn't heard. "In the hospital, you told me you might love Hercules?"

"I don't know," Laf breathed, looking behind them, as if Herc would be standing at the door. "I do but...I don't know."

"It's okay. Take your time to find out. He loves you and he'll stay with you no matter what." James smiled down at them, eyes starting to swell with tears. "Hold that close. You never know when you might loose it."

Laf's eyes filled with sympathy and sadness. They squeezed his hand. "James, I'm so sorry. I'd trade places with him if I could."

"He couldn't live with that."

Laf sighed. "Neither can I."

///

Thomas sat in the hospital room, staring down at his hands. His mind was whirring, confused and unable to make sense of what had happened. There had been a boy... and Thomas couldn't remember him.

He couldn't remember him.

He had said that, said it very politely, as one would do to a stranger, and the boy had started crying. What had his name been? James? Yes, he thought so. Anyways, the boy had started sobbing and it had filled Thomas with a sense of protectiveness and guilt that shocked him. He didn't know the boy but...but he wanted to, he realized with a start. It felt like he had known him, like he was a distant friend long forgotten. Maybe...

The nurse, Nurse Hemings, had told him that he had lost some of his memory when he had hit his head. She hadn't told him anything other than that but sat by him and told him the names of the people who had been by his bed.

Hercules Mulligan, she had said, was the large boy with a blue bandana. The name didn't ring a bell. Lafayette went by they and them pronouns- something Thomas found rather odd- and had a name too long to remember. It had stirred something in the back of Thomas's mind. He remembered a kid, about his own age, speaking rapid French but he couldn't remember what the kid, presumably Lafayette, had been saying.

Finally, James Madison.

James, Nurse Hemings had said, was a sweet, kinda boy who he had been very close with before all this. He wanted nothing more than to have Thomas get better. Something pulled at his heart, a bit of grief and longing and maybe something else too.

A clock somewhere in the building chimed 10 and Thomas jumped a little, startled. He sighed. His head pounded, the bruise on his arm was throbbing, and he couldn't get his mind off of James Madison. He pressed the 'call nurse' button, deciding he needed to do something about this.  
It took only a minute for her to show up, dark brown eyes concerned. "Mr. Jefferson? Are you alright?" she asked in a rolling southern accent similar to his own.

"Please, call me Thomas," he said, pouring on charm and thanking a higher power that he remember how to do that, at least.

She rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorframe. "I've seen enough southern charm in my life to know that you want something. What is it?"

"Can I call James Madison?" he asked. "You said he was close to me and I want to see if it would jog my memory."

"Not today," she said firmly, a shadowing passing over her face. "I'll get you some medicine to get you to sleep."

"But-"

"Tomorrow!" she interrupted, and he knew that was that. "He can't see or hear from you again."

_James Madison,_ Thomas thought, replaying the name in his head. _James Madison, who are you? Why are so upset? Where we friends? Did you love me? Who are you?_  He felt his throat close as tears pressed into his eyes like waves against a the glass pane, shattering it.

Suddenly those waves were crashing down around him, drowning him, swallowing him whole. He wanted to remember. He want to be normal. He wanted the memories that had been stolen. He wanted James Madison. He wanted Lafayette. He wanted to know who they were. What they were to him.

When his nurse came back in, she put some sedative in his IV drip and sat with her arm around him until he couldn't keep his eyes open any more, until his lips were too tired to form the questions any longer. Until his mind to too slow to wonder who he was.

In his dreams, figures danced around him, red eyed and leering. He tried to move but realized he was tied to a wooden pull, stacks of kindling at his feet. When he screamed, smoke filled his lungs and he couldn't breathe. The chants of the figures grew louder and louder until they were deafening.

" _Who are we? Who are we? Who are we?_ " they chanted, cackling with looks of fear and evil mixed on their faces. Their expressions were that of a devil but their eyes betrayed a haunted terror.

_"Who are we? Who are we? Who are we?"_

"I don't know!" Thomas screamed, forcing his voice over the crackling of the fire and the screams of the figures. "I don't know! I'm sorry!"

" _Who are we? Who are we? Who are we? Why don't you remember me? Who are we? Who are we? Who are we?_ "

"I don't know!" Thomas repeated, sobbing. "I don't remember..."

The terrible, haunted eyes seemed to rip him apart and suddenly they were wolves, bursting from human skin, terrible, skeletal wolves and they were running at him and he was falling. And falling. And they were behind him, running on air, easing their way down with bloody jowls and skin barely hanging into bone.

He hit the ground in a forest, pushing himself up as fast as possible and running. Behind him, the terrible howls seemed to form those words. " _Who are we? Who are we? Who are we?_ "

It was the question he didn't know the answer to, the one thing he couldn't learn in school or study in a textbook, the one test he had ever failed.

Thomas kept running, kept running until he reached a cliff. He jumped and while he was falling, the world shifted into nothingness. For a long moment, there was peaceful silence. Then the slow creation of galaxies and stars took place. Worlds blossoming from dust and stone, some so large that if asked to recount, he couldn't with mere words, and some so small they could fit in his hand. It was loud and breathtaking. A situation so extreme that words couldn't do it justice, that it robbed him of breath.

In the distant corners of the universe, the chants grew louder. " _Who are we? Who are we? Who are we?_ "

Like shooting stars, balls of light began to surround Thomas, spinning around him as if weaving. He couldn't escape. "I don't know!" he sobbed, dropping to his knees. "I don't know who you are! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" He covered his head with his arms as the light picked up speed, blindingly bright.

" _Who are we? Who are we? Who are we?_ " The chanting grew more desperate and panicked. " _Who are we? Who are we? Who are we?_ "

Thomas buried his face in his hands and sobbed even harder. "I don't know! Fucking hell, I don't know anything! Leave me alone!" he screamed. A knife ripped through his throat but he didn't care. "I don't fucking know!"

" _Who are we? Who are we? Who are we?_ " The chanting was hysterical, everywhere and only in Thomas's mind. " _Who are we?_ " It went dead silent. Thomas looked up. The balls of light were hovering silently above him.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, vision blurry with tears. "I'm so sorry."

The orbs didn't respond for an eternity. The galaxies around him began to die, to burn out. Stars exploded until there was nothing but those orbs left. Then, in an empty, dead, desolate tone, they said, " _who you are?_ "

_Who are you?_

_Who..._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is not meant to romanticize the relationship between the real Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings AT ALL, and if you feel like I did, please tell me and I will change it. I just felt like I needed to have her in the story, even for a few chapters. With that said, I hope you enjoyed!


	36. Chapter 36

George Washington, among his colleagues, was considered wise, was considered almost mysterious. He was rather reserved, had only a few close contacts. Ben Talmadge, Ben Franklin, and Baron von Stuben where among those closest to him. 

In his years of teaching at the school, he had developed quite the reputation. His students never failed, and seemed the happiest of the school. Teachers, new and old, would ask him, " _how do you do it? What's your secret?_ " to which he always replied, " _years of mistakes and learning._ " Those mistakes he'd never mentioned, haunted his every move, dictated where he went and what he did.

He had been four when he made his first life changing mistake. He had been running unsteadily down the driveway of his old house in Virginia. He hadn't seen the car until it swerved to avoid him, crashing into a tree. The drivers had been three teenage girls and two boys. Out of the five of them, two were killed and the Washington family had been sued for all they had. After that, his father had broken, stopped working, and his mother had taken George and his brother, and left. 

When George was fifteen, he noticed a man trying to pull a girl- probably younger than George himself was at the time- into an alley. The two friends he had been with and him had gone after the man. Turned out the man had friends. In the end, there was a fight. The girl was safe but one of George's friends had been paralyzed. George had been the scapegoat, the boy who was blamed by the boy, his family, his friends.

Third, he was twenty one and it was winter. Of course, over winter break, there were plenty of parties, and his brother, Samuel, and him had decided to attend one on Christmas Eve. They had a little too much to drink and the roads were a little too icy. The car, which George had been driving, had skidded of the road. Both of them were hospitalized. George had been unconscious for a day and a half and Samuel never woke up.

The last time was one of the worst for him. He had told Lafayette already, about the girl he couldn't help, the student that bore all the warning signs. He went weeks hardly eating, hardly sleeping, the only thing on his mind that if he had noticed a little sooner, even a day before then she might still be alive. He'd vowed never to make the same mistake again- especially when Lafayette reminded him eerily of that girl.

George snapped out of his stupor as a loud, drawling voice interrupted his thoughts. A clock above the door read 5:40pm.

"Maria, Maria, Maria. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" A tall, tan man was leaning against the wall of the cafe, smirking at a girl in a red coat that he vaguely recognized as a student from a university uptown. She dropped by every once and a while to talk with John Laurens.

"James," she said coldly, keeping her distance. Her discomfort was suffocating.

The man walked to a table, stretching out leisurely and gazing at her with a kind of hunger. He said something George couldn't hear but Maria balked and looked down at her hands. "Don't call me that," she said angrily.

"Why not, love? Maria Reynolds," he said, sounding out the name, "fits you so well."

George stood up, deciding to take action. "Everything alright over here?" he asked, addressing the pair. "Maria, it's nice to see you."

Maria looked up in surprise, eyes frantically telling him to get her out of the situation. "Oh! Professor! I, ugh, I needed help on an assignment. I would ask after break but...it's so fortunate to see you here."

George smiled, offering her a hand, which she took graciously. "Now, what is it?" 

"Thank you, sir. It's the...the Revolutionary essay on the Culper Spy Ring. I don't know how to justify how, uh, how Abraham remained in the ring after being caught so many times." She looked over her shoulder. James was tearing her apart with his eyes, violating her. She tugged her coat around her a little tighter.

George lead her over to his table, gently seating her and taking his spot across. "Are you alright? Who was that?"

Maria shuddered, pulling her coat tighter around her. "I'm fine. He's my ex. We...we broke up cause he was abusive and..." She looked away, obviously not wanting to talk about it.

"You don't need to say anything more. I've been a teacher for years, I specialize in these situations. I know a bad past when I see one. Is there anyone for you to call to pick you up?"

Maria nodded, eyes flicking behind her, as waiting for him to attack. "She's going to kill me. Eliza Schuyler," she said in response to George's curious look, "my...well, I'm not sure what we are."

"Ah. But you'll be fine, right? Should I call someone about him?" he offered.

Maria glanced over at him, shaking her head. "Our case is waiting to be heard. He wanted to make amends, to help him win. I'm fine so long as he leaves me alone."

James made an impatient face, gesturing her over to him. He mouthed, "move it. Don't have all day."

Maria shook her head at him. "One moment," she told George. "I'm going to make a call to Eliza."

"Of course," he said politely, waiting until she had stepped outside the cafe to approach James. 

"What do you want, old man?" James asked lazily, eyes on Maria. The smell of cigarette smoke filled his nose.

George sighed, leaning on the table. "Listen to me," he said pleasantly. "Stay away from her. She's my best students and, since no one else seems to be, I am obligated to tell you to step off." It might be a half lie, but if it got Maria somewhere else safely, it was worth it.

  
James stood up, still several inches shorter than George. "You don't know what's best for her," he snarled. "She needs me."

"She can decided for herself," George said calmly. "And if she said no then she means no. I believe you can leave now. There's no need for you to be here."

James spat in his face, picking up his jacket and marching towards the door. George took one of the napkins from a dispenser on the table and wiped his face, heading out to make sure Maria wasn't bothered. James simply marched past her, not sparing her a glance. Maria pocketed her phone, turning and coming back inside. "What happened?" she asked.

"I told him to leave," George said kindly. "He decided to, for now. You have a ride then?"

"Yes sir, thank you."

George smiled. His phone buzzed and he took it out, checking the new text. It was from his wife. "One moment," he said.

_Martha: where are you?  
_

_George: helping a student with ex troubles  
_

_George: Rochambeau on 9th  
_

_Martha: they okay?  
_

_George: she's fine  
_

_Martha: are you okay?  
_

_George: I'm fine  
_

_Martha: just asking because it’s nearing the anniversary of the accident  
_

_George: Don't worry about me  
_

_Martha: that doesn't make me worry less  
_

_George: text you later and be home soon  
_

_George: I love you_

He looked up, pocketing his phone, as a girl in a blue coat ran through the door. "Maria!"

Maria looked guiltily up, a reluctant smile lighting up her face. "Hi," she said meekly

Eliza looked furious. She pulled Maria into a tight hug, pressing her face into her shoulder. "You scared the heck out of me!" she snapped. "The hell were you thinking? You're lucky I was just down the street!"

Maria seemed to melt, to fall apart. She clutched at Eliza as if she'd slip away. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I didn't want to tell you because I knew this was how you'd react."

"You idiot. I'd have gone with you," Eliza breathed, face softening.

"Really?"

"Really."

They didn't speak for a long moment before Maria murmured, "maybe 'really' can be our always."

Eliza started laughing, letting her go and squeezing her hand gently. "Okay, Augustus Waters, lets go home."

George watched them go, heart lightening. There was too much bad in the world, but with those two happy, it seemed just a little bit better. This class- this entire year- was nothing like he had ever experienced before. He'd expected a normal class, instead he'd developed a parental relationship with one of his students, and was now involved in several relationships. It might be odd, but he wouldn't trade it for anything.

He sighed, knowing he should get going so Martha wouldn't worry but he didn't feel like he could drive. She was right, as usual, was with the anniversary of the accident was drawing nearer, it wouldn't be safe for him to drive when thinking about it.

_George: can you pick me up?  
_

_Martha: is it that bad?  
_

_George: don't want to take any risks  
_

_Martha: order me a hot chocolate. I'm on my way  
_

_George: I love you  
_

_Martha: I know. I love you too._

She arrived about five minutes to six. Silently, George handed her the drink and she took his hand. They made their way slowly to the car, Martha never letting go of his hand. He climbed into the passengers seat, reminding himself that his wife was a fantastic driver and the roads were all salted. Safe.

"Are you okay?" Martha asked as she pulled out to the parking lot. She pushed some of her dark hair out of her eyes.

"Like I said, I didn't want to make any chances." The screeching mental emerged from his memory and played on repeat in his ears. He could hear his brother scream.

"That wasn't an answer."

George sighed. He wasn't going to win this. "I don't know."

She nodded. "Do you want to talk?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Take a wild guess."

George smiled, looking out the window at the long grass, coated in a silver layer of frost and at the grey sky. He opened the window a bit, allowing the stinging smell of salt and winter to fill the car. "We can talk when we get home," he said quietly.

"Okay." She squeezed his hand.

“Okay.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for suicidal thoughts/intentions

11:57am.

It wasn't the first time they had been here, with this choice, this decision. It wasn't the first time, but it was just as heavy a weight, as deep a scar.

Lafayette opened the bottle of pills and stared at them, heart racing. They couldn't live like this, without Thomas, without their best friend.

It would take only half this bottle. Only twelve pills. It would take not even an hour before these would stop their heart, stop all this. And they wouldn't have to deal with this pain, this horrible emptiness. It would all be gone.

But Thomas…what if Thomas woke up? What if he woke up and they were…? What if he came to remember them only to find out they were dead? Laf closed their eyes, placing one pill on their tongue experimentally. It would be so easy, so why was there just that sliver of regret in their heart, knowing that they where leaving Herc, James, and Thomas to an uncertain future?

They had questions, so many questions. Would everything work out? Would Thomas remember them after they had gone? Would he not? And who would find them? That was, perhaps, one of their biggest questions. Who would have the misfortune of walking into the bathroom and finding them there?

They set the bottle down, closing their eyes. They were rather surprised to feel a tear slip out from their eyes and quickly brushed it away. Then they took a shuddering breath and looked in the mirror at their teary brown eyes, framed with soft lashes, at their jawline that they hated and the cheekbones they couldn't contour into softness. When they looked at themself, there were few things they didn't hate- eyes being one of them. Even when they hated so much, where they really ready to destroy themself?

“Laf? You in there?” Herc pounded on the door.

They gathered themself, setting the pills back in the medicine cabinet, plastering a smile on their face. “Yeah, I'll be out in a second.” They ran the faucet for a minute and then opened the door.

Not yet.

///

John jerked awake as the plane began descending. His watch read 12:03pm. Alex was sitting up next to him, hands clutching the armrests, eyes staring straight forward. John put a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing it. "Alex," he said quietly.

Some of the tension slowly seemed to leech out of him. "Hey," he said quietly. "We'll land in ten minutes."

"You okay?"

Alex nodded, turning his hand over and gripping John's tightly. "I'm fine."

"You should have woken me," John berated softly.

"You needed rest."

"You needed help."

Alex dropped his gaze. "I know." He leaned over, resting his cheek on John's shoulder. "I love you," he murmured. The man next to them made a disgusted noise that they chose to ignore.

"I love you too," John said, kissing the top of his head. The plane jostled, descending through turbulence. Alex turned his face into John's shoulder. He smiled down at Alex, looping an arm around him to rub his shoulder. The man next to them coughed loudly several times. John kissed his head. The man cleared his throat. Alex turned his face a little so he was watching the man out of the corner of his eye.

"Should we call someone to get you water?" he asked, voice muffled by John's shirt. John snorted, disguising it as a sneeze.

The man glared at them. "You're in the South now, boys. We don't take kindly to faggots."

John was clutching the armrest so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Alex felt his muscles tensing. "Yeah, well Southerners don't take kindly to anything but the 1930's. Guess what? Most of the world's aware that it's the 21st century now."

"You two'll be beaten up before the days over."

John's hand tightened on the chair but he didn't respond. Alex, however, sat straight up. His eyes fell on the man's wedding ring. "You're married?" he asked. "Sister or cousin?"

John bit his tongue, trying not to laugh. "Or both?" he added. "We don't judge, as long as it's consensual."

The man looked away, face almost maroon with rage. "Fucking faggots," he muttered."

Alex looked at John, delight written over his face. "Sister," he said conversationally.

"Probably." 

The plane rocked and Alex's face went white. John grabbed his hand, pressing it to his own chest like he did during that storm one million years ago. Alex gave a wane smiled, tucking his head under John's chin. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you," John murmured, glaring at the man out of the corner of his eye. "Is there anything else I can do?"

Alex thought for a moment, tensing as the plane began to descend. "Sing. Just quietly, just to me. That song your mother taught you."

John smiled, feeling oddly emotional. He checked his watch. 5:20. He nodded, pressing his cheek against Alex head. "I may not love to see our glory," he began. "But I will gladly join the fight. And when our children tell our story, they'll tell the story of tonight. Raise a glass to freedom; something they can never take away, no matter what they tell you. Raise a glass to the four- the two- of us. Tomorrow there'll be more of us, telling the story of tonight."

"They'll tell the story of tonight," Alex repeated. "I love you."

John laughed. "I love you too." The plane jerked and bumped as it touched down and Alex clutched at John's sleeve. "It's okay," he said. "We're here. Welcome to the South."

"Fun," Alex replied sarcastically, looking like he might be sick.

By 12:45, they were in the baggage claim. Alex reached out for John's hand but he stepped back. "Not here," he whispered. "Not in the South. My father can destroy you."

"He won't," Alex whispered back.

"He's powerful enough. Don't...I don't want you to get hurt. You're nothing but a friend here."

The word struck Alex with a painful force. He looked away. "Fine," he said, voice off. "If that's what you want."

"Alex," John said softly. "I don't mean it like that. My father can destroy everything. I won't risk that." 

Alex sighed, keeping his distance. "I'm a friend from school," he murmured. "A friend."

"For five days, Alex," John said. "Five days."

Alex nodded. "I need to use the bathroom. Come with me."  
He followed Alex into the bathroom, a one stall service bathroom next to the exit.

Alex locked the door, pulling John down into a rough, needy kiss. John gasped against his lips, creating entry for tongues. His hands wound knots in Alex's hair, pulling his head up. 

"John," Alex moaned into his mouth, lips curving into a smile.

John stepped back, grinning. His hand was pulled out of the ponytail. "Well then," he commented breathlessly.

"Well then," Alex repeated, eyes shining.

"We can't do that," John said seriously, face darkening.

"Why?"

"People talk. They get suspicious. News of this reaches my father of his colleagues and we're through. Alex, I've lived like this all my life. I know my way around. It's not that I don't want this- I do- but we can't."

Alex nodded, not looking at John. "Fine." He stepped out of the bathroom, letting the door close behind him, leaving John staring blankly at the clock above the door.

12:59.

The taxi came at 1:20. They climbed in, keeping their distance. Neither of them spoke until the taxi pulled up to the gate of a huge house at 3:00. John's eyes were staring out the window, his jaw set, and his hands clenched so tightly that Alex was reminded of Lafayette on the first day of college. Unable to even act upset or pissed, he inched his hand over to John's, rubbing his knuckles until his hand went limp, turning to hook a finger around Alex's- the closest they could get to a romantic gesture.

John paid the driver, taking their bags from the trunk and making his way up to the Laurens residence. He felt like he might puke, like he might pass out. His legs were shaking, his body switching from hot to cold to hot again.

Memories of his childhood surrounded him. Underneath a tree to the right, the ghosts of two girls and boy played, laughing. To the side, in the vast field behind the house, laughter floated as the children played and ran. From the house, a boy screamed as his father beat him for the first time. From the partly burned forest on the side of the house, a child's scream split the air, more terrible that anything. Alex's hand yanked him back to reality.

"Stay with me," Alex murmured, warm breath grazing his neck.

"I'm fine," John said softly, forcing his breathing to remain in check. “God, I love you.”

The massive door swung open and two people ran out, shrieking in delight. "Jacky!" they cried, waving at him. Emotions passed over John's face so quickly, Alex couldn't name half of them.

  
"Martha!" he called, laughing. "Mary!" He dropped his bag, running towards them. They collided half way down the path, his sisters knocking him over with the force of their embrace. Alex felt jealously twist his stomach. He could only dream of having a family like that.

John sat up, crushed by his sisters, who were squeezing him so tightly that he thought he might die. “Okay,” he said softly, pushing them off. “ _Okay_.” John looked his siblings over. Martha, as usual, was wearing shorts and a lacy tank top, almost auburn brown hair loose in curls around her shoulders. She had grown an inch, despite still being the shortest. 

Mary was dressed in a tank top and basketball shorts, hair newly cut to about shoulder length, and tied back. She was taller than Martha by nearly three inches- something Martha hated to no end.

"Jacky!" Mary exclaimed, using the old nickname they had given him when he was perhaps eight. She pulled him into an odd triangular hug. "We missed you so much!"

"Missed you too, Mary," John said. He pressed his face into his sisters shoulders, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent of home.

Mary and Martha pulled back, trading knowing smiles. John raised his eyebrows. "Actually," Mary said with a chuckle, "its Mark. He/him."

John's eyes widened. "Mark? Oh! I always thought so but..." A smile split his face and he pulled his brother into a hug. "Does father know?"

"I'm not stupid," he said softly. "Of course father doesn't know."

"Good on you for not making my mistake. I'm so proud of you," John replied in an equally quiet tone, unable to hold back his smile. "Come on, you two. Meet my...friend." He waved over at Alex. "Alex!"

Alex jogged over, carrying John's bag as well, which he dumped at his feet. "Alexander Hamilton," he said, holding out a hand. Mark took it.

"Mary Laurens," he said, casting a questioning look at John.

John smiled at Alex. "You can tell him." Alex tilted his head curiously, not speaking.

Mark nodded. "Never mind then," he told him. "Mark Laurens. He/him."

"Nice to meet you," Alex said, grinning over at John. "I've heard about you."

Martha laughed, shoving her brother out of the way. "Martha Laurens. She/her. I'm sure he's told you plenty of bad things about us."

Alex shrugged. He liked John's siblings. They were obviously smart, funny, and pretty. "Quite a few." Mark slapped John playfully. For once, he didn't flinch. He knew his siblings would never hurt him.

"That's rude." His face fell. "Father will want to see you," he said.

It was as if all the liveliness had been sucked from the Laurens children. The radiant smile of John's face was gone, the vibrant red of Martha's lipstick dulled, and Mark's grey green eyes seemed darker almost. Alex could have sworn it dropped a few degrees. He had underestimated just how bad it would be.

John cleared his throat, looking behind them at the house. "Alright," he breathed. "Let's get this over with." He looked like he might be sick and Alex reached out to comfort him but, remembering John's words, stopped and pulled his hand back.

"Let's go then," he said, barely brushing his fingertips across the back of John's hand. It was the only comfort he could give.

John nodded, checking his watch. "It's 3:12. I'm late." He looked at Alex, eyes dark and empty.

"Late?"

"He was supposed to be here at 3:00," Martha said. "Father won't be pleased that you're late, Jacky."

John ran a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to flatten it. "Yeah..."

"I got it," Alex said without thinking, fixing John's hair carefully. He felt the heat of Mark and Martha's eyes on him. He stepped back quickly. "Done."

"Thanks," John breathed shakily. He wanted to hug Alex, to kiss him and tell him how grateful he was to have him by his side. But he didn't. He shot a smile at his siblings and a terrified look at Alex and began the walk up to the house.

_We're in the South now. We can't be together here. Oh god, oh god, I'm back. I'm back. I'm back._

He forced his jello-like legs to keep moving, keeping working just until he reached the house. Mark opened the door for them. "Father," he called. "John's home!"

It took a moment, perhaps two, before Henry Laurens appeared in the hallway. He was dressed in black, beady eyes cutting into John's soul. He stopped several feet in front of him. "Jack," he said after a minutes pause. "It's good to see you."

"Father," John said coldly, trying to keep calm when his heart felt like it would break his ribs and his legs were shaking. The only thing keeping him together was pure spite and Alex's hand on his back.  
Henry surveyed his children, eyes landing on Alex. "But who's this? John, who did you bring?"

John opened his mouth to say something but Alex spoke first. "Alexander Hamilton," he introduced. "Pleasure to meet you, sir. I go to school with your son."

Henry arched an eyebrow. "John, is this the boy who you have been living with?"

"Yes," John said quietly. He seemed to shrink in on himself, wild spirit compressed and quivering in fear.

"I see." Henry nodded, eyes sharp on Alex and, for a moment, he could see the fierce determination and calm that mirrored John's. Maybe he and his father were more similar that they wanted to admit. "Jack, you may bring your bag to your old room. Alexander, you sleep down the hall in the guest room."

"Thank you," John said stiffly, shifting his bag on his shoulder. He beckoned to Alex. "Come on."

"Thank you, sir," Alex said to Henry, hatred bubbling in his gut. He followed John up a flight of marble stairs to a long hallway. John gestured to the first door on the right.

"My room," he said. He pointed to a door a little ways down. "Your room."

"Alright," Alex replied, pleased that the rooms weren't far apart.

His heart stopped when John staggered forward, collapsing outside of the closed door. He curled in on himself, as if in excruciating pain. His breath started coming in rapid sobs. "John!" He sat down beside him,  
pulling him up into his lap, and began stroking his hair. "Breathe with me."

John drew a deep, shaky breath. "I want to go home," he whispered, unraveling. "I want to go home. I'm so sorry about this..."

  
Alex's heart broke. He pressed a kiss to John's temple, holding him against his chest. "We're safe," he breathed. "I'll kill him before he hurts us. Breathe, Love. Breathe for me."

  
John drew in a long, shaky breath. He looked up at Alex, a smile curving his lips. "You called me 'love'."  
"I did?" Alex thought for a moment. "Oh, I did. Would you prefer I didn't?"

"Certainly not."

Alex sighed, pulling his boyfriend to his feet. "I love you," he whispered. "You don't even know."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," John murmured. He pressed a soft kiss to Alex's cheek. "Im really sorry, I underestimated how bad I would be. It's just really hard to be back here...Five days until we can leave."

Alex took his hand, kissing his knuckles. They'd survive this. Together. "Never apologize for that. You have every reason. Four days, Love. Counting today. We can make it through this."

John nodded, eyes sparkling. "Together?"

"Always."

 


	38. Chapter 38

Two days.

Two long, painful days of waiting near the phone, for any word from the hospitals, from the therapists.

Two days of not sleeping, of eating only what Herc forced him to eat, what Laf picked up when they needed to get out of the house, when they couldn't sit any longer.

These two days were, without competition, the two worst of his life.

James sat, staring emptily at his phone, scrolling through his old texts with Thomas for what must have the hundredth time, looking at the kind words loving messages. He smiled sadly, reading a few from the day after they had gotten together.

_Thomas: hey  
_

_James: hey  
_

_Thomas: how r u?  
_

_James: I'm good  
_

_James: I miss u  
_

_Thomas: oh god we're one to Those Couples  
_

_James: you really complaining? We've been together 1 day  
_

_Thomas: no  
_

_Thomas: it's been a fantastic 1 day  
_

_James: aww  
_

_Thomas: no rlly. You're beautiful  
_

_James: stop it  
_

_Thomas: I am an honest man  
_

_James: you misspelled *annoying*  
_

_Thomas: rude  
_

_James: no ur beautiful too like really  
_

_Thomas: I can't wait to see you tomorrow_

He smiled. Stupid, cheesy, dumb texts sent at 3:45 in the morning. Texts that he would give anything for again. God, if this was what a life without Thomas was like, James wasn't sure if he wanted to live.

He sighed, setting the phone to the side and picking at the croissant sandwich Lafayette had picked up a few hours ago. He knew they wanted to leave, that they couldn't stand life without one of their best friends. He knew how they felt.

At 10:50, a phone in the kitchen rang and James was up in no time, rushing to the kitchen. Laf beat him to it and answered with a breathless, "hello?" Their eyes widened. "Really? Well, how much?" They looked like they might start crying. Clearing their throat, Laf replied softly, "we'll be right there." They hung up, leaning against the kitchen counter for support.

"What is it?" James asked fervently. "Is he okay? What happened?"

Laf pursed their lips, thinking over what they were going to say. "He was asking for you."

"What?"

"Thomas- he asked his nurse to call you and she gave in. He doesn't remember who you, just a face and a name." Laf sighed, running a hand through loose hair. "He doesn't remember me."

Herc, who had come into the kitchen with Laf, wrapped an arm around them."I'm sorry," he breathed, eyes looking anywhere but at them.

Laf blinked tearful eyes, looking up at the ceiling. "Get dressed," they instructed. "We're going to the hospital. Don't want his impression of us to be bad." Their voice wavered and they quickly pulled away from Herc and left the room.

Herc gazed after them in sorrow. "I can't- don't want to imagine- how hard it must be." He looked over at James. "How are you?"

James shrugged. "Managing."

"It will get better."

"We don't know that."

Herc smiled sadly. "We have to hope. If we don't, what do we have left? I hope that Laf returns my affections, that Alex and John are safe in the South, that Thomas will get better. I hope because these are out of my control."

"I'm too scared to hope," James admitted. "I'm scared that I'll convince myself everything will be aright and...and it won't be." He shrugged, embarrassed to let these emotions slide. "I'll go now."

"Alright," Herc said softly. "If you ever want to talk..."

"Thanks." James threw him a grateful smile before leaving the room, intent of getting ready as fast as he could.

James slumped down on their bed. He picked up on of Thomas's pillows, hugging it tightly to his chest. It smelled like Thomas.

James' heart ached, burning, broken, throbbing. "Don't take him from me," he prayed. "Do what you must to me, but don't take him." Strange. He wasn't remotely religious. That never used to happen before.

At 11:30, the three of them piled into a cab. They could have taken Laf and Herc's car or Thomas's, but no one trusted themselves to be able to safely drive while running on coffee and two hours of sleep. The cab driven looked worriedly in the mirror at their exhausted, mournful faces, and at Laf picking their hand in anxiety- something they did a concerning amount.

"Hey," Herc said quietly, taking Laf's hands. He softly rubbed around the raw spot on the back of their hand, a calming motion. Laf sighed, blinking quickly up at ceiling, holding back tears. "You alright?"

" _Non_."

Herc wrapped an arm around them, wishing there was more he could do. "It'll be fine. Everything will work out."

"You don't know that."

"You don't know that it won't."

Laf shook their head. "Not playing this game with you."

Herc sighed. "Okay. James, you alright?"

James, who had been scrolling through his phone, jolted. "What?" he asked.

"You alright?" Herc repeated.

James shrugged. "I don't know. You don't have to mother us."

They arrived at the hospital at quarter to 12. Walking into the building, Laf looked like they might pass out. Herc wrapped an arm around their waist, steadying them, grounding them. And James walked alone, behind the two. He felt like his heart might give out, or that his legs would refuse to work. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, popping a cough drop into his mouth. The same brand Thomas had given him.

God, he missed Thomas. He missed every part of him. The way he moved, laughed, that southern accent that got stronger and more prominent during certain times. He missed the way Thomas got up in the morning only for food, the way he'd fix coffee- a little sweet for James' taste, but perfect nonetheless. He missed his eyes, expressive and deep. He missed his hands, so rough and long but so gentle and kind. James stopped reflecting, following Laf and Herc up to the front desk.

The woman had them wait a moment before directing them up two floors and two doors to the right. Her eyes tracked the three of them, their wrinkled clothes, tired faces, and Laf looking like they might simply pass out at any given moment. She turned away to the in line- a young woman and her daughter. "How can I help you?" she said. There was too much pain and death in this world.

James' heart was pounding so hard, he wasn't sure if he was going to have a heart attack or not. He knew he was prone to anxiety and took a deep breath, refusing to let himself start panicking in front of Thomas. The elevator doors slid open. No one moved for a moment. Then Herc, with the tenderness of a mother handing a newborn, lead Laf out, beckoning to James, who followed slowly.

Herc paused in front of the door, waiting as James came to stand beside Laf. "You two ready?"

"No," they said together.

"Do you want a minute?"

They looked at each other, silently asking if the other needed one.

"No," they said.

"Okay," Herc said softly, raising a hand to knock on the door.

Immediately, a young nurse opened it."Nurse Hemings," she introduced. "I assume you are Hercules, Lafayette, and James?"

"That's us," Herc said with a wane grin.

"We usually have a one person rule," she started, looking uncertain, "but you three are all allowed in this once. James?"

"Yes?" James asked.

"He's been asking for you."

James nodded, not trusting his voice. "Okay," he managed.

"He's a fighter and, while I can't guarantee his recovery, I believe he will make one."

"Thank you," Laf said. She nodded, turning her back and walking down the hall.

James stepped into the room. It smelled strongly of hospital- if that specific smell you can't quite name. The walls were white, as was the ceiling. James knew it was painted like that for calming purposes but he felt like he was stuck in a white void, like he was drowning in whiteness. His eyes fell on Thomas, who was sitting back in the bed, watching the three of them come in.

"Hi," Thomas said uncertainly. His eyes flickered between the three. "Which one of you is James Madison?"

James' heart almost stopped, he looked uncertainly over at Laf and Herc for advice but they both shrugged. No one spoke of a second, contemplating what they were going to say.

Finally, James gathered his voice and said, "who do you think is James Madison?"

Thomas looked confused. "What?"

Laf didn't meet his eyes when they spoke up, as if they couldn't bear seeing those eyes without a spark of recognition. "It's a memory test. Who do think, out of us three, is James Madison?"

Thomas squinted at the three people. His mind was shifting, digging for some memories. Trying to remember who James Madison was, what he looked like. Trying to find something beyond that deep seated longing. Uncertainty, he pointed at the one standing farthest from the other two. "You?"

James almost broke down right there. "Yes," he whispered, tears filling his eyes. "Yes."

Thomas smiled, reaching out a hand, as if to touch him. "James?"

"Yes," he breathed in a voice so tiny and so fragile it seemed as if any other sound would break it. "Yes."

He crouched down beside the bed, allowing Thomas to trace the curves of his face- his nose, his cheekbones, eyes, jawline. He allowed Thomas run a hand down his neck, through his hair, as if exploring his body for the first time. In a way, he was.

"James," Thomas breathed. "I remember. Not a lot, but I remember...you...I was scared. You're here."

James nodded, wiping his eyes. "Yes. Always."

"Always?" Thomas asked, hand cupping his cheek. His eyes shone with soft remembrance.

"Always." James slowly reached out a hand, brushing his fingers across the bruises on his cheekbone, the stitches on the side of his head. "What do you remember about me?"

Thomas thought for a moment, forehead wrinkling. "I don't remember you, per say, but I remember emotions. I know your name, I know your face, I know I feel safe around you. I know that you take my breath away."

A tear fell down James' cheek. He closed his eyes, feeling an odd bittersweet feeling fill him. "Do I?"

"Always," Thomas murmured. "I don't know what we were or even who you really are but you left me breathless from the moment I saw you. And I remember my father, how ashamed he'd be of me for behaving the way I am."

"Your father's a dick," James whispered with a little laugh. "I've met him once."

"You have? When?"

James hesitated. "Should I start from the beginning?"

Thomas bit his lip. "Could you write it down? The story of how we met, I mean. I...I want to be able to read it again in case...in case I forget again. The nurse said it was a possibility that I'd relapse."

James nodded, standing up. "Of course. Do you want to see Laf now?"

"Laf?" Thomas closed his eyes, thinking. A heavy weight pressed down on James. He prayed Thomas remembered them. "Oh. Yes."

James beckoned Laf towards the bed. Their face, normally so lively and bright, looked shadowed and old. "Thomas," they said, crouching beside the bed. They sounded a little scared.

He furrowed his brow, staring at them for a long second. “I don't remember…it's…it's very cloudy.”  
They forced a smile. “It's okay.” It wasn't okay. “It will take time.” _How long_?

“I'm so sorry,” Thomas said quietly. “I just…the doctors said it damaged part of my brain…”

They patted his hand, feeling their throat close up. “You don't need to explain.” _But why did you remember James and not me? You've known me for years and years!_

Thomas sighed, looking over at James. Laf felt poisonous tendrils of jealously creep through them. “I want to see you all again,” he said softly.

“Of course,” James assured him. “We’ll look forwards to seeing you.”

Lafayette stood up, turning their back on him, and walked straight out of the room without another word. The tall boy with the bandana followed. James hesitated, glancing back at him for a moment. Thomas felt his heart flutter.

What were they before he lost his memory? Friends? Lovers?  
Dare he wish they had been lovers?


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for self harm but not quite

The first full day wasn't as bad as it could be.

At breakfast, Henry boasted about his friend's writing a bill that would essentially slow down the availability of hormonal treatments Transgender people needed and Mark looked down at his plate, looking sick. He didn't touch a thing. 

During the rest of the day, he made John talk about his classes, his friends, about his grades. John would answer like a machine, never meeting his eyes, and Alex would sit by silently, watching this cursed interaction.

Henry's eyes would flit to him once and a while, knowing and stone cold. Alex had no doubt that he had at least guessed the relationship between him and his son.

  
Later that night, Alex snuck out of his room and sat with John for hours. Sometimes in silence, sometimes reflecting on life and death and the universe. Sometimes, just tender touches and gentle kisses. When Alex left at 3:30am, John couldn't sleep.

Every moment he closed his eyes, nightmares would pounce on him.   
Twice, he woke up and thought five people were dangling from their necks from the ceiling. Without a moment of hesitation, he knew who they were: Laf, Herc, his siblings, and Alex. He wanted to scream, to run to Alex's room and crawl into his bed, were he knew he'd be safe, but he couldn't. He settled for curling up into his blankets and sobbing into his pillow.

At 5:40 in the morning, Alex died. Again. It was different this time. They were running, running though a dense forest, chased by taunting laughter and homophobic and racial slurs. They crossed a river. Alex fell behind so, of course, John waited for him anxiously on the opposite shore. He waited an hour, two hours, twelve hours, a day, a week. The forest around him grew cold and dark, and still, Alex never came. John sat there until the trees died and turned to dirt and new ones began to grow. He stayed there until his feet were rooted into the ground and the river flooded, drowning him. And he waited under the water, empty and cold. He waited for thousands of years for a man who would never come.

After that, John didn't sleep. He sat in bed all night, absentmindedly scratching his skin open with his nails in a constant loop of anxiety. By 7:57, when Alex came in, his hands and arms were covered in scratch marks and a little blood. 

"John!" Alex almost bolted towards him, taking him carefully by the shoulder as to not touch the wounds. "What did you do?" His eyes were frantic, scared.

John blinked slowly, looking down at his arms and at Alex's face. "I don't know," he whispered. "I didn't mean to."

Alex looked almost angry, something that shocked more than scared John. "What the hell? John, you're bleeding a lot."

"It's not bad. You've seen me bleed worse." It really wasn't bad at all. Alex was blowing it out of proportion.

"And I was terrified," Alex said softly. "But that was different. Your father did that but this- this is..."

"It won't happen again. I just...it wasn't a good night." _You died so many times, how could I cope?_

"No excuse." Alex stood up, turning as if to walk out the door.

John attempted to follow. "Where are you going?" 

"Getting some ointment and towels," Alex said, turning to face him. His voice was empty, devoid of anger and concern.

John dropped back into the bed, examining his arms. They weren't bad, most simply skin scratches, not even drawing blood. It was strange, he had been aware that he'd been scratching his arms but to an extent were Alex was this freaked out?

He might be mad, but st least he was alive, at least John wasn't drowning, waiting for him.

Alex opened the door, carrying a bottle of water, towels, and a tube of ointment. Wordlessly, he sat down, gently taking John's arm and pouring some water on the towel, rubbing and dabbing it gently across the torn skin.

"Are you mad at me?" John asked softly.

Alex didn't answer. The towel became rougher and John flinched. "Sorry," Alex breathed.

"Are you mad at me?" he repeated.

"A little." He poured some of the water directly on John's arms, wiping it off. "I don't know. I'm worried. I haven't forgotten when you walked into the ocean."

"This wasn't-" he took a deep breath, trying to find the words to explain it. "It wasn't like that. I was...having a rough night."

"Nightmares?" John nodded. "What do nightmares have to do with this?"

 _Because you died._ "I was anxious. Probably some of the worst nightmares I've had in a long time. I couldn't sleep. When that happens, I pick at my skin, give my hands something to do, something to distract me. I didn't realize I was doing it."

Alex sighed, softening. "Promise me you'll never do it again. A real promise. Not like before."

John nodded, leaning down kiss the top of Alex's head. "Promise."

It took ten minutes for Alex to finish. When he did, he pulled a long sleeved shirt out of John's duffle. "It'll hide your arms," he said softly, kissing John's cheek.

John pulled him down on top of him. "Hey," he said, eyes glowing despite the exhaustion.

"Hey." Alex nuzzled his neck, pressing a kiss to his Adam's apple.

"Thank you."

"Always."

At 8:30, they made their way downstairs for breakfast. Alex didn't miss the anxiety fresh on John's face or how his hands were curled into tight fists. As the neared the room, Alex pulled him to the side. "Breathe," he whispered, rubbing his knuckles, coaxing his hands open.

John nodded. "Thanks." Taking a deep breath, he entered the room.

"Jack," his father said, looking displeased. "You're late. Breakfast was ready fifteen minutes ago."

"Sorry, father." John took a seat, gesturing for Alex to sit next to him. "We'll be earlier next time." He gripped Alex's hand under the table.

"You had better be. Your sisters and I had to wait for you." Mark lowered his eyes at the word, "sisters."

"Sorry, father," John said again. "Thank you for waiting."

To Alex, this was terrifying. John was curling in on himself, wilting under his father's eyes. He looked like a scared child and that terrified Alex to no end. God, what had his childhood been like?

After breakfast, John retreated back up to his room without a word. He didn't even look at Alex as he climbed the stairs. He didn't wait to shut the door behind him.

"John," Alex said softly, knocking on the door.

"Alex," came John's slightly muffled response. He opened the door, eyes dark and sad. He looked as if he'd aged twenty years. "Alex, I love you but, listen, I need to be alone for a little while. Okay?"

Alex stepped back, hurt but understanding. "Okay. No pressure. Don't do anything. I love you too." He nodded before John closed the door on him, leaving him to stand facing a wooden wall between the man he loved and himself. He sighed, starting to walk back to his room.

"Alexander," came a voice behind him.

Alex spun around. Mark was standing there, keen eyes fixed on him. "Mark," Alex greeted in a low voice. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." He hesitated for a moment. "We need to talk." He beckoned Alex across the hall, opening the door to his room. 

"What is it?" Alex asked, looking around the room. It was nice, obviously painted stereotypically for a girl with pink wall mostly covered with sports trophies and band posters. "I like your room."

Mark smiled, eyes shadowed in the dim light. "I hate it."

"Why?"

"Too girly."

Alex nodded. "Ah.” He tilted his head. “Did you win all these?” He gestured to a shelf of trophies.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Damn.”

"Right then. What I was going to tell you." Mark fiddled with his hands. "You can't, under any circumstances, tell John I told you. Promise?”

“You have my word.”

“I was about ten. Jack was fourteen. Martha was twelve. I woke up one night because I heard someone punch the wall. You can guess who that person was."

"John?"

"Yeah. I went into his room to check and see if he was alright, about ten minutes later." Mark closed his eyes, pulling his arms around himself. "He was sitting on his bed, holding a picture of our mom. Just staring at her. His hand was bleeding pretty badly, running all down his arm. All around him were scattered drawings, torn and ripped paper. He had drawn her enough times to fill two or three sketch books. He didn't notice me at first, so I picked up a piece of paper and looked at it. Five words. "I'm so, so sorry, mom.” Like he had caused her death, but he didn't. She had died nearly eight years previously.” 

"Oh my god...was his hand alright?” Alex asked, feeling his heart stop.

"Didn't break anything, thank the Lord, but his hand was bleeding. I tried to leave and he saw me and just threw the picture aside and hugged me. We hadn't hugged like that in years, when it seemed like I was the older brother, like I had to care for him. He told me he was sorry and promised that as long as Martha and I where stuck with our dad, he would never leave us."

Alex closed his eyes, picturing this scene play out. He shook away the image, trying to remember that John was safe. "Oh god," he whispered. "Mark, I should probably tell you this. You're his sis- brother," he corrected. "Sorry about that. I suppose you'd know what's best."

"It's fine. Yeah?"

"When I first met John, he was standing on a beach. I was worried because he looked so hopeless and it was 2:43 in the morning. I went out to see if he was alright, he told me he was gay, and I invited him to move in with me- which he did."

Mark smiled. "That's such a thoughtless thing to do. He could be a murderer or you could have been a drug lord."

"That's what he told me the next day," Alex said, smiling slightly. "But anyways, skip a few days after your dad came and beat the shit out of him, I come home from getting food and he's standing in the water, just walking out with this horrible calm on his face. I started panicking and made him come back to shore. God, I don't think I would ever forget that. He looked so empty and just...I don't know, ready to die?"

Mark nodded, eyes downward. "I didn't know what our father did to him but I'm not surprised," he said softly.

"You guys never went to anyone?"

"We couldn't. Foster homes. We'd have been split up. Mom wouldn't have wanted that."

Alex nodded. "Oh."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

Mark hesitated. "Are you and Jack...together?"

Alex was quiet for a moment. "Yes," he said quietly. "Does that bother you?"

"I can cover for you two," Mark said in a business like tone, ignoring Alex's question. "Stay with him tonight. I'm worried and, honestly, I'm sure you are too."

Alex smiled down at his hands. "Thank you," he said.

"I want what's best for my brother. If that happens to be you, so be it."

"Can I ask you something?" Alex asked.

Mark shrugged. "Shoot."

"Why do you call him Jack?"

Mark smiled slightly. "Oh, it's just a nickname. Our mom started it."

"Oh, well, thanks again," Alex said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm going to check on him."

Mark nodded. "Alright. You take care of him or else I will personally end you."

Alex laughed. "Oh, don't worry."

Crossing the hall, Alex knocked softly on John's door. No one answered. Alex gently pushed the door open, heart in his throat, and mind cooking up horrible scenarios. "John?" he whispered softly. "John?"

John was lying on his bed, curled up and asleep under the blankets. Alex slowly made his way towards him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He stroked John's hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

God, this was the boy he loved. This boy loved him. Alex took out his phone, opening up a new note and began to write.

_I have told you, and I told you truly that I love you too much-You engross my thoughts too entirely to allow me to think of any thing else-You not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep-I meet you in every dream-and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your perfection and beauty. Allow me to explain.  
_

_Your freckles rival the brightest and most beautiful stars. You are fluid, capturing the light and the eyes of everyone. When you were created, a mistake was made. If there is a highest power, they accidentally tangled you in starlight, pulling constellations from the sky and placing them in a scattered wind across your body._

_Your looks cannot begin to rival you as a whole. Your body sings with grace and kindness. Kindness enough to accept an offer and bring light to a poor orphan's life, to brighten the world every time you smile. My Dearest Laurens, I am utterly and truthfully the most in love I have ever been and if you spent the rest of time by my side, I would never utter a word of complaint. I am yours._

Alex pocketed his phone, knowing full well that he would never show John his writings, his pages upon pages of rants about his perfection. He sighed, lying down next to John and closing his eyes, relishing in the beautiful warmth of his body.

 


	40. Chapter 40

Theodosia got to stay with Aaron for Christmas, as if by miracle.

Her fiancé was off god knows where, doing god knows what, leaving her alone to curl up in bed with Aaron for hours on lazy mornings and sleepless nights.

She was a being made of brightness and joy, glowing as she eyed the pile of presents sitting under the world's saddest tree in the corner of the living room. She laughed as Aaron's dismal attempt to cook before assuring him that she couldn't have done better and it would taste fine. The days around her were filled with joy unlike any Aaron had ever known. She changed his life from the moment she had stepped in it, made his life worthwhile.

That night, Christmas Eve, marked the third anniversary of their relationship, Theo reminded him with a smile and kiss. "We should do something," she said, practically glowing.

"Like what?"

Her eyes sparkled and she sat on the arm of the chair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I don't know. Anything you have in mind?"

Aaron smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist. "A few things."

"Enlighten me."

He pressed a kiss to her neck, smiling into the smooth brown skin. "Gladly."

"I love you."

He sighed happily. "I love you too."

She sat back, fiddling with her hands. "I mean it," she said quietly, seeming to dim. "I mean it with all my heart."

"Are you okay?"

She took a frep breath, preparing herself. "Aaron, I'm going to break up with Jack." She closed her eyes, preparing herself for the flow of questions she was sure were coming. Instead, there were only light hands on her cheeks, stroking her face.

"Theo, I will stand behind you no matter the outcome. Just be safe." His eyes shone brighter than the stars, shining with admiration and respect. "I will always stand with you."

///

Christmas with the Washington's was very different from Christmas anywhere else. Martha cooked a little before giving up, and sliding into bed next to her husband. "You alright?" she asked, sliding an arm around him. 

Since they had started dating a few years after college, George had warned her about Christmas's, had told her about what had happened so long ago. She knew he sunk into these black moods, filled with guilt and regret, with pain and self loathing. She knew she couldn't change that no matter how hard she tried. She'd learned to roll with it.

George sighed, worry lines carving their way into his face "It's getting easier," he breathed. "I don't know if I want it to."

"Why?"

"I should feel more guilty. I should have been blamed. It was me who suggested we go to that party. It's my fault he's dead."

Martha sat up, sighing. "Stop it. You were both young and stupid. You couldn't have known. George, I tell you this every year. You need to put that behind you."

George nodded, taking her hand. His wise eyes were filled with pain. "I know I do but...let me grieve one last time before I put this in the past."

"Do you want me to drive you to the cemetery?" she asked.

George tensed, pushing himself up. "Can we walk?"

"Of course." Martha kissed his cheek. "I'll get your coat."

They arrived at the cemetery at 10:30am. The wind was swirling around them and a thin layer of frost cracked under their feet when they walked. Hand in hand, they found their way to a gravestone located under a tall tree, skeletal in the winter weather. Martha stepped back.

"Hello," George said quietly, pulling off his glove and brushing his fingers across the smooth surface. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" He sighed, kneeling on the frozen ground. His breath hovered in frozen curls in the air. "I miss you, Sam. And I still think to myself " _maybe it should have been me_?" I still wonder why it wasn't. You were so bright, so kind. You had such a future ahead of you." He broke off, taking a deep breath to gather himself. He looked behind him.

Martha, bless her, had disappeared into the swirling wind, leaving him with his thoughts and his dead brother.  
He smiled awkwardly down at the stone. "Listen, Sammy. It's been years now. I can't let this accident rule my life anymore. I've made mistakes, so many of them. I'm far from perfect, far from being the ideal brother or son, like you were, but I know how to let things go. And I didn't want to for the longest time. You can't blame me for it. You're my brother. You stayed with me through the hardest times of my life. I don't want to but..." he sighed, wiping his eyes. "I'll still visit you, I'll always visit you, but I can't let what happened follow me anymore. I'm letting go of my guilt, my grief. Sammy, I don't know if you'd be proud of me or not. I'm going to pretend that it's a yes because I can't bear it being a no. I love you and I always will, but I won't blame myself anymore. So, I guess..." he cleared his throat. "I guess that's it. Bye."

The wind rustled the bare branches of the tree, clacking like bones above him. George stood, checking his watch. It was 11:58, he'd been here nearly half an hour. Martha approached him quietly, taking his arm and leading him from the grave.

As they walked away, George smiled. If it had been his name etched in stone instead of his brother's, he'd have never met her.

He was lucky.

///

Thomas sighed, shifting in his hospital bed. It was around noon on Christmas and he was restless.

The doctors hadn't wanted to release him yet, saying they were unsure just how deep the memory loss went and how it would vary should they allow him to leave. He wanted out, wanted to go live his life again. He wanted to call Lafayette or James and ask if they could come over and visit him, but it was Christmas and they were probably busy.

"Hey, Thomas," said one of his nurses, Martha Manning, as she poked her head into the room. "How are we doing?"

Thomas smiled back at her, pleased to have some company. "I'm fine, if not a little lonely."

"Is that right?" she asked, stepping into the room with a tired look on her face.

Thomas nodded. "A little."

"Anything I can do?"

Thomas shrugged. "No. I...I want to call James and Lafayette, but they're probably busy."

"Want me to call them and ask if they want to come in?" Martha smiled, squeezing his arm in comfort.

"You'd do that?"

"Of course."

Thomas felt a smile break out across his face. "Thanks."

"No problem."

At 12:34, James arrived, bringing with him a bag of various candies and a notebook. "Hey," he said softly, almost unsure, as he entered the room.

"Hey," Thomas breathed. There was frost on his coat, his cheeks and nose were red, and his eyes lit up the entire room.

James made his way over to the chair, sitting down. Thomas swung his legs over the side of the bed as to face him. James smiled, looking down at his hands, clutching the items. "Here," he said. "You told me that you liked sweets a long time ago. I thought I could pick some up. Laf couldn't come yet but they'll be here later."

Thomas took the bag, smiling. "Thanks. I don't have anything for you, sorry."

"The only present I could ask for was for you to remember me." Thomas looked away, blushing.

“How's Lafayette doing?” he asked, popping a peppermint into his mouth.

James’ face darkened momentarily. “They're…they're upset. Do you remember anything?”

Thomas bit his lip. “A little. It's coming back slowly. I know them now, I remember that they are my best friend. I remember John Laurens, I remember….” He shook his head. “I remember things I've never told anyone else.”

James nodded. “Oh. Is everything okay?”

He laughed. “I wouldn't call it “okay”, but it's better.”

“It's gonna be okay.” He realized that Thomas was eyeing the notebook curiously. "Oh! This is...I wrote down our first few meetings. You asked me to."

Thomas touched the book like it was the most fragile and important object in the universe, turning it over in his hands. The pages were covered in small, neat hand writing, detailing their story, the story he couldn't remember. "James," he breathed. "This is... thank you."

James smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't mention it."

"No, really. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it." He looked away, eyes darkening.

"You alright?"

He smiled, looking back at Thomas. Remnants of that dark look still clung to his expression. "Yeah."

"I could always tell when you're lying."

James didn't say anything for a moment. "I know...I was worried. I thought...I thought you wouldn't remember me in time for Christmas." He coughed, looking away. "It's stupid."

Thomas touched his hand lightly, as if unsure if he was allowed to do that. "It's not."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"I missed you," James sighed, flipping over his hand and squeezing Thomas's softly.

Thomas tensed at the gesture and James let go immediately. He felt a sharp pain in his heart. Thomas wasn't back to normal yet, it would appear.

"I missed you too," Thomas said. "I couldn't remember who you were. Just...just bits and pieces."

"Enlighten me."

He closed his eyes, thinking deeply. "A field. I remember that. I remember you under the stars, looking like you were made of light. I remember a cough drop, and an empty classroom. Nothing else. A few scattered pictures, but nothing else."

"That's it?" James said in a choked voice. "You don't remember what happened that got you here?"

He closed his eyes again. Images flashed in his mind, pulling him into a surreal alley. He was being lifted, a sharp pain in his neck, thrown. Nothing. "A little," he whispered, voice cracking. He felt a sliver of fear trickle down his back and he looked around the room with a sense of paranoia.

"It's okay," James said softly. "Perhaps it would be better if you didn't remember."

Thomas shook his head. "I want to. Did you write it in the book?"  
"Of course. Not all of it, but as much as I could bring myself to."

"Thank you."

James smiled, gazing at Thomas with a look of rapture. "Always."

///

Laf and Herc knew they needed to talk. When James left for the hospital, they figured it would be a perfect opportunity to sit down and have a heart to heart.

"Why do we need to talk?" Herc asked softly, shifting to a more comfortable position on the couch. "Move your goddamn legs, I'm squished."

Laf grinned, propping up their legs on his knees. "I think you know why we need to talk."

A flutter of anxiety pushed at his stomach. "I think I do."

"What are we?" they asked bluntly. Caution appeared to be thrown into the wind.

"In terms of-?"

Laf rolled their eyes. "Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly what I'm going to say."

"Yeah? Well, honestly, I don't know what we are." Herc fiddled with the hem of his sweater.

"Me neither."

"So...what now?"

"What do you want to be?" Laf asked, certain of the answer.

"Don't make me say it," he whispered.

Laf leaned forward. "What do you want?" they asked again. It might be cruel, making him say this, and it might be evil to bring this up only now because they needed it, they needed this validation that they were worth something.

"Don't make me say it."

"Herc..."

Herc sighed, closing his eyes. "It could never have happened."

They tilted their head. "Why never?"

"Because I know you didn't feel the same way."

"Things change." Laf took his hand, squeezing it. "Listen to me, I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm still figuring things about but I think...I think I do like you."

Herc felt shock fill him, icy and sharp. "It won't work," he said, pulling his hand away.

Laf moved back as if struck. "Why?"

"Do you want brutal honesty?"

They hesitated. "Yes."

Herc leaned forward, staring at them. "This used to set my heart aflame, even looking at you. Not anymore. I don't know what or why but, I'm sorry, I just don't feel that way anymore. I still love you, I know I do, but I also know that you still have feelings, no matter how small, for Alex. I can't be with you unless I was certain your heart wasn't compromised. I don't want to put either of us through that." Part of his heart ached at the cruel words but he knew them to be honest or, at least, partly honest, and Laf deserved honestly.

They nodded mutely. "Alright. I understand." They stood up.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Their voice was brimming with tears. "It's alright. You're right. I do like Alex still. I still wish we could have been...more. But I do have feelings for you. I'm going to go call James and see when we should come."

The only thing Herc could think of to at all lesson the pain he knew Laf was feeling was, "it wasn't your fault."

Laf smiled over their shoulder at him, face wet. "I know."

"I'm sorry."

///

Eliza had asked Maria to come to diner with her that morning so, of course, Maria accepted the offer. Now, however, she wished she hadn't. 

"I'm an idiot," she muttered, looking through her closet. Peggy sat on he bed behind her, watching her struggling.

"You aren't an idiot," she said. "You told me you weren't interested in a relationship with Eliza. So you shouldn't be this stressed."

Maria glared at her, smiling in spite of herself. You couldn't be mad at Peggy. "I lied."

"I know." Peggy stood up, looking into the closet. "Why is your closet color coded?"

"I got bored."

Peggy shook her head disbelievingly. "Liza thinks you look good in red. I'd go for that. She also thinks you look good in every color." She pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to Angelica, asking how Eliza was doing.

Maria put her hands on her hips, eyes scanning the red section. "Dress or shirt?"

"Dress. Oh- Angelica replied. Eliza's stressed as shit right now. She doesn't want you to feel pressured or anything."

"Tell her I'm fine."

"I won't lie. I'll just say that you're nervous. But why would you be? It's not like you two planned for this to be a date."

"Okay, fuck you!" Maria threw a red dress onto the bed. "That good?" she asked.

"Too casual."

She sighed. "This one?" she asked, holding up a lacy, fancier red dress that fell to mid calf.

Peggy smiled, eyeing the dress. "Perfect."

By 7:30, Maria was sitting on her bed, fiddling with the hem of the dress. It was rather pretty despite a few memories it brought up. James had liked this style of dress. She shuddered. He wouldn't ruin this evening. The doorbell rang.

Maria jumped a little, shaking off the feeling of James' hands on her. Not tonight. She stood up, opening the door. Eliza was dressed in a loose blue blouse and high waisted black pants. Her hair was down and pinned away from her face. 

"You look fantastic," Maria said, smiling, breathless.

Eliza laughed, taking her arm. "So do you! So, ready?"

"Absolutely."

It was 7:44 and they were at the restaurant getting seated. Maria couldn't take her eyes off Eliza. She was flawless, every part of her perfect. No one would ever deserve Eliza Schuyler. Not Maria, not anybody.

"You're looking at me weirdly," Eliza said quietly, looking up at Maria from her menu.

Maria blushed. "Sorry."

"I don't mind."

Maria smiled, resisting the temptation to reach out and take her hand. Eliza, seeming to see and understand the struggle, moved her own hand within reach, gently taking Maria's. "This okay?" she asked, constantly wary of what memories things might trigger.

"Definitely," Maria breathed. Her hands were soft and slim where James' were huge and rough.

Eliza smiled, unsure of what to say, what to do.  _God, I'm helpless. Look at those eyes, look at her. I'm so helpless._

///

Henry Laurens threw a party on Christmas Eve every single year. All his Senator or Lawyer colleagues came to discuss politics for hours and drink expensive wine. Needless to say, John and Alex were not looking forward to it.

"We can leave after an hour," John said softly. "My dad won't even notice."

Alex nodded. "That would be fantastic." He squeezed John's hand. "You okay?"

"Nervous. You?"

"Same."

John sighed. "I feel so bad for Mar- Mark," he corrected. "I'm still adjusting."

Alex nodded sympathetically. "I do too."

At 7:50, the doorbell rang, echoing throughout the large house. John bit his lip, taking a steadying breath. "Ready?"

"Not at all." Alex stood up, smoothing John's suit. "You look amazing, as usual." He did, dressed in a black tuxedo with a green tie that brought out his eyes. The suit was custom made, hugging his body perfectly.

John kissed his nose, smiling contently. "So do you." While Alex's suit wasn't custom, it was one of John's older ones, and fit extremely well. The blue tie they had chosen looked fantastic. 

By 7:56, voices began to fill the dining room. Alex and John stood in a corner next to Martha and Mark. Mark looked extremely uncomfortable and unhappy in a flowing white dress and kept picking at the bodice, pulling it up to hide his chest. He wrapped his arms around his waist, as if trying to make it appear as if he had less curves than he did. "Fucking hate this shit," he grouched.

"Sorry," Martha murmured. "This must suck."

"It does. Shit, Representative Lee's coming." He slapped John, trying to get his attention. "John, that's Charles Lee's dad, right?"

John flinched at the slap, looking away from his conversation with Alex. "Oh fuck," he whispered. "Alex, that's Lee's father. I...told you about him."

"Right," Alex said quietly. "Him."

His tone held more disgust and hatred towards the boy than John had ever heard before, except when he talked about Jefferson.

The Representative approached the four of them, smiling rather kindly. "Ahh, if it isn't Mister John Laurens. How are you, my boy?"

John smiled. He had no problems with Lee's father. Other than his stance on abortion and bathroom rights, his views were actually rather liberal. Henry had been his friend before he had began to change parties. "Hello, sir. It's nice to see you."

Representative Lee nodded. "How's school, John?"

"Tiring but fun, sir. How's your family?" he answered politely.

"My wife has a fever, poor thing. My son is at the buffet if you two would like to speak. I'm sure he'd like to see you again."

John's face whitened but he smiled. To Alex this was almost terrifying, to see this elaborate mask he painted on, this false persona. "I'll do that, sir."

"Who's this?" the Senator asked, looking at Alex.

"Alexander Hamilton, sir," Alex said, sticking out a hand. "I'm John's roommate."

"Pleasure." He spared him no other notice, instead turning to Martha and Mark. "You two have grown up so wonderfully. Such lovey young women." Mark made a sour face.

"Thank you, sir," Martha said graciously, elbowing Mark in the ribs.

“Thank you, sir,” he echoed emptily.

Senator Lee looked around. "I was wondering if either of you would care to keep my son company during dinner. Perhaps you could become friends again ."

John looked at Alex with alarm. Alex wished he could hug him, kiss him, tell him it was alright. Instead, he settled with brushing his hand against John's. This was going to be a long hour.

At 8:15, Alex met Charles Lee.

The bastard had approached Martha, asked her for a dance. She had politely, but firmly refused.   
"I couldn't," she said flatly.

"Just one dance," Lee insisted, taking her hand.

"No."

"Nothing more."

Martha wrenched her hand out of Lee's. "No."

"I insist." He put a hand on her waist, trying to pull her towards the dance floor, towards him.

Martha glared at him but, upon seeing Henry glaring at her across the dance floor, complied. "One dance," she breathed. "Nothing more."

"Nothing less." 

Martha shivered at the feeling of his hands on her waist, inching upward. The dance was the longest of her life, and she hated every second of those eyes, not looking at her face, of those hands rubbing circles in her skin.

Once or twice, she caught a glimpse of her brothers, all clenched fists and worry lines. Even Alex, who she hardly knew, looked angry.

When the dance ended, she stumbled away from him and made her way to her brothers. "That," she swore, "was the worst thing that has ever happened to me."

"I can kill him for you," Alex said with a small smile. "He seems like a dick."

Mark hit him. "He's coming. Alex, shut up. John, don't strangle him yet."

"Yet," John muttered darkly.

Lee swaggered over to them, eyes flicking across the Laurens sibling, ignoring Alex. "Well," he drawled in a heavy southern accent, "hello everybody."

John visible swallowed, glaring.

"Hello, Lee."

"What? No longer on a first name basis?" Lee said, feigning hurt. "You wound me, Johnathan.

"That's not even my name. We lost the right to first names when we didn't speak for nearly four years." A muscle in his jaw jumped. 

Lee frowned. "You lost you accent, man. Girls love southern accents."

John closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Why are you still here?"

"To see your sister, of course." He turned towards Martha. "That wasn't a bad dance, was it?"

"No," she said, ducking her head.

"Maybe you should leave," Mark suggested, crossing his arms.

"I'm not here for you," he snapped, suddenly appearing very ugly. "Now, Martha." He touched her arm and she moved back. 

Alex cleared his throat, pushing past John, who tried to grab his arm. "Lee," he said. "Maybe you should take a hint. She's not interested."

Lee dropped his hand, turning toward Alex and looking him up and down. "Who the hell are you?"

"My name is Alexander Hamilton, John's roommate."

"Alex," John breathed warningly.

Lee stepped closer to him, tilting his head curiously. "Stay out of my business. I can do what I want."

"Yeah? Well, she doesn't want you. Back off."

Martha looked up angrily. "Guys!" she exclaimed, drawing several curious looks. "Guys," she repeated, quieter. "I can speak for myself, however I do appreciate the help. Lee, I'm not interested. Please leave me alone. Don't talk to John, Alex, or Mary again."

"Bitch," Lee hissed, leaving.

Alex and Mark grabbed John's arms, restraining him. His face was red and his eyes were furious. "I'm going to kill him," he breathed through clenched teeth.

"Calm down, Love," Alex whispered. "Let's go."

Martha kissed her brothers cheek. "Thanks."

"If he bothers you again I'll kill him," John swore.

A moment later, Alex and John slipped out of the room and into the darkened hallway. It was 8:25, not even an hour in. "You alright?" Alex asked, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"I'm fucking furious," John breathed. "Sorry."

"I'd be too. Don't apologize."

Suddenly John smiled, pulling Alex into an embrace. "Merry Christmas," he whispered. "I love you."

Alex laughed a little. "Merry Christmas, Love."

The band started up a new tune, a slow, flowing one. John threaded his fingers through Alex's, and stepped back. For a moment, they simply rotated on the spot, unsure of how to move, then John took control, beginning to walk in a circle, hand pressed to Alex's. "I have no idea how to dance," John admitted, turning a little red. “Not with a partner.”

"Me neither."

As the tune and pace of the song picked up, Alex found himself dipped and twirled, steps and movements coming effortlessly to him as John lead them down the hall and around. He laughed, twirling against John. By the time the song ended, he was out of breath, pressed tightly against his boyfriend. 

"I love you," he said, feeling happier than he had since they had gotten here.

John kissed his forehead. "I love you too. Not all too shabby for our first Christmas?"

"Not at all."


	41. Chapter 41

Laf took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. Their hair was smoothed back as much as it could be, their face was makeup free, and the bags under their eyes were punpleasant against their skin.

It was two days after Christmas, and 11:35. Today was the first day they had been able to gather the strength to put the sting of Herc's words behind and go out to the hospital.

This time, it was just them. Not Herc, not James, just them and only them. They decided to walk amidst the frost and chill, using the cold as a painkiller, to numb them to the inevitable pain of seeing their best friend, their brother, in the hospital. People ran past them, shoving them into the road as they scrambled across icy spots and after dogs and children. It was busy, rather unusual.

They stopped to grab a hot chocolate on the way, sipping it as they entered the hospital and 12:12, and went up to Thomas’ room. They paused out in the hall, taking a deep breath to control the nerves rising up to drown them. What if he couldn't remember? What if he was disgusted with what he remembered? What if something had changed? What if-

_No_. No negativity, they reminded themself. Not today. Today was going to be okay. They had told themself a million times that today was going to be okay.

Laf raised a hand and knocked three times, waiting for the “ _come in!_ ” And they entered, immediately overwhelmed with the smell of hospital.

“Thomas,” they breathed, trying to smile. He was sitting up, reading _Mists of Avalon_. James must have gotten it for him. Jealousy pressed against their chest. Why was it that he remembered James, not them?

Thomas set the book aside and stood up, albeit unsteady, and walked over to them, eyes shining with emotion. He stared at them for a minute, scrutinizing them. Laf felt nervous, feeling his eyes tearing them apart, learning them.

“Laf,” Thomas finally said with a breathy laugh, then he pulled them into a tight hug.

Laf let out a choked sob and buried their face in his shoulder, squeezing him tightly, feeling as if their heart was breaking and growing simultaneously. _He remembers me, it's all going to be okay,_ they thought, pushing aside every other bad thing that was happening, because this compensated for it. For a long, long moment, they stayed like that. Who knows how much time passed? Hours? Minutes? Mere seconds?

Then Thomas pulled away, smiling to brightly that it was blinding. “Jesus Christ, I missed you so much,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Still can't believe they fucking shaved off this part.” He gestured to the right side of their head, where a chunk of hair was missing.

Laf chuckled. “It's not bad, just-“ they reached towards him and he moved back, just slightly, but enough for Laf to feel a trill of hurt. “How much do you remember?” they asked, dropping their hand and stepping back. Maybe it hadn't been as good as they had thought.

Thomas hung his head, embarrassed. “I remember how we met, I remember that…that night.” They both knew what he was talking about and chose not to expand on the subject. “I remember the first day of college,” he rushed to say, “and then there's some giant gap. Nothing past that.”

“Oh…”

Thomas nodded, sitting down. “I'm sorry. I'm trying my hardest, I really am. I get little pieces back sometimes, I can remember a few things after that, but..." He looked miserable, as if he'd failed them.

Laf shook their head and sank down next to him. “No,” they breathed. “Never apologize for that. You just need to focus on getting better, okay? That's all I could ever ask of you.”

“I want to remember,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I have so many questions.”

Laf put their hand over his, and he didn't pull back. “Tell them to me,” they offered. “I can do my best to answer them.”

Thomas nodded, biting his lip. “I have so many. Who's Alexander Hamilton? I remember a name. I know I absolutely despise him, but I don't know why.”

Laf laughed. “Him. Oh, him. He's a…friend of mine, and you two met the first day of school. You remember anything about him?”

“He was glaring at me,” he said, squinting in concentration. “He…he…fuck! I had something and then I lost it.” Frustration was evident on his face. “Something about him saying something about my dad?”

Laf rubbed his back, sighing. “It's okay. Take it slow. He's dating John Laurens. He…do you remember meeting James Madison?”

“Of course. I was upset, I ran out of someone's apartment for some reason and he found me crying by a tree.” He smiled a little. “I couldn't ever forget that.”

Laf felt pain, sharp as a blade, slice their bruised heart. _But you'd forget me?_ “That was Alex. He said some stuff about you and your father. You were…you were very upset about it. You ran out of his and John's apartment,” they explained patiently. “More questions?”

Thomas hesitated, unease plain on his face. “Were James and I…?”

“Were you two dating?” Laf asked, smiling.

Thomas shook his head violently. “Never mind. That was stupid.” His face was turning red.

“No, no it wasn't,” Laf breathed. They hated seeing him like this, afraid, timid, unsure. “You two were certainly together. You care about him so much, Thomas, it isn't even funny. You hadn't known each other that long."

“Really?” His face lit up and he laughed. “How the fuck did that happen?”

They laughed, rolling their eyes. It hurt them to know he didn't remember how the two had gotten together, but they brushed it off. “You two decided to pretend date to convince your dad that you were actually bisexual. He got pissed and you two left and decided to get it on in the field out side of your father’s house. Then I had to come pick you up.”

Thomas closed his eyes, smile tight and sad. “Oh god. I just want to be able to remember…” His voice broke. “I want to remember!”

Laf watched in horror as he started to cry, hiding his face as if ashamed. “Hey,” they breathed. “Hey. No, no, Thomas… Thomas, don't cry.” They wrapped an arm around him, unsure of what limits their physical contact had now. “It's okay,” they soothed. “It's all going to be okay."

“You can't promise that,” he whispered. “If I relapse…I could forget everything again. I don't want to. I'd rather die!”

Laf’s heart twisted, remembering to those horrible moments when his heart had stopped, when the nurses had declared cardiac arrest. When he had died- even if it was only for a moment. “Don't say that,” they murmured. “It's all going to be okay. I promise.”

“Don't lie,” Thomas snapped, wiping his eyes. “Don't lie to me!” He pushed away from them, trying to hide his face as his shoulders shook with sobs.

Laf closed their eyes, trying to hold it together. “I'm not lying,” they said, standing to give him space. “I believe, with all my heart, you won't forget us again.”

“You believe it!” Thomas snapped, voice thick. “That doesn't mean it won't happen, and if it does…what will you do then? Because I might not remember everything, but I know that you loved me- the old me- and if I…if I forget and I can't remember will you-?” He shook his head, burying his face in his hands, all his fears, his thoughts, exposed for the world to see.

Laf clasped his hand, kneeling in front of him. They gazed up at his, tears running down their cheeks, but smiling. “Do you not remember? I promise you that night that I would never, ever go back there. I’m going to keep that promise, okay?”

Thomas let out a sob and threw his arms around their neck. “I miss you,” he whispered. “I miss knowing who you are, who James is…Hell, I can't even remember myself!”

Laf's heart twisted. “I know,” they soothed. “Thomas, I know. I can't imagine…it just seems so…” There weren't words. “I'm sorry.”

He nodded, clinging onto them like a child for a minute, simply letting himself be held, comforted, before pulling away. “I'm still pissed that they shaved part of my beautiful hair.” The smile was forced, but at least it was there.

“We can style it so it's not as noticeable,” Laf reassured. “I probably should get going soon…I've got to check in on Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens.”

Thomas bit his lip, looking reluctant to let them go. “Alright.” He sighed, swinging himself back onto the bed. “Laf?”

They stopped midway through shrugging their coat back on. “Yeah?”

“Tell James…” He hesitated. “Tell him that I want to see him soon please.”

Their eyes softened. “Of course.” _Anything_. They slipped on their scarf and took one last glance at him, sitting small and vulnerable in the bed. “Thomas-“ _I love you_. They smiled and waved their hand, dismissing their words. “Never mind.”

“See you later,” he said slowly. _I miss you. I miss who I was, how I remember you._

They smiled sadly, slipping out of the room. _Please remember me. I can't go on like this._

Thomas sighed, leaning back in his bed. _Maybe one day_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts going out to Texas♥️  
> Also, I highly recommend y'all read Mists of Avalon as it is a fantastic book.  
> Thanks for reading!


	42. Chapter 42

Winter break passed quickly. School started again and the lazy mornings spent lying in bed with John, became rushed and desperate. They couldn't have these morning, couldn't relax, couldn't lazily kiss every single freckle for hours. They got up earlier, edited homework, began to study again, going to early morning lectures. Late nights weren't filled with old Disney movies but rather checking and doing homework assignments and studying.

To no ones surprise, Thomas Jefferson wasn't at school yet. News of the accident had become widespread, everyone knew exactly what had happened- at least a twisted version of it.  
"I heard," said a kid at school, "that five men attacked him while he was walking alone and they had guns. I heard they shot him in the head but the bullet only damaged a part of his brain that gave him amnesia."

Alex, John, Laf, and James- who had started hanging out with Laf in light of the recent events- would shake their heads and continue walking.

Something had happened between Laf and Herc, Alex soon found out. He didn't know what but the two had grow remarkably father apart over the course of a few weeks. He pointed his out to John, who simply nodded in worry and remarked that they'd probably get over it soon and if they didn't then they would be confronted about it.

It was easy to see how the fallout affected both parties. Herc withdrew, stopped hanging out as a group and devoted far more time to sewing. His dress had not made it to the runway and he had swore that he would do an even better job. Laf, on the other hand, seemed desperate to get out of their apartment, to not see Herc. They stayed late nights at James' empty home, slept on the couch or in Alex's spare room instead of going home. Finally, when they could bear it no more, Alex decided to ask what had happened.

"He told me he doesn't love me anymore," Laf said softly. "But, Alex, I think I love him."

Alex closed his eyes, putting a hand on Laf's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"It hurts," they breathed. "It's hurts so much."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Laf leaned in, just a bit. "Herc doesn't even know why. It just...stopped. I can't imagine it, to love someone for so long and then...just stop."

Alex shook his head, imagining what would be like to suddenly wake up next to John and not feel anything. "Neither can I."

"You really love him."

"With everything I have," Alex breathed.

Laf smiled tightly, almost sadly. "I envy you." They stood up, biding a quick farewell before leaving, wiping their eyes as they did so.

The next day, they arrived early to school, practically running into Washington's classroom. The professor smiled, turning away from his books. "Hello, Lafayette."

"Good morning, sir. Could we talk, perhaps?"

This caught Washington's attention. He set his books down, moving towards Laf with a concerned expression. "Of course. Sit." He gestured to a nearby desk, taking the opposite seat. "What's on your mind?"

Laf shrugged. "A few things."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever..." They paused, looking away. "Have you ever waited to long for something and by the time your finally go to get it, it's gone?"

George leaned forward, calm wise eyes staring through them. "What happened?"

"I have a friend. I told you about him, Hercules Mulligan. Well," they stopped, laughing breathily for a second. "Sorry, this is just stupid."

"If it's bothering you, please, tell me." The honestly and fatherliness in his voice awoke that need for a parental figure Laf had been suppressing for so long.

"He liked me, for a while. Years," they spilled out. "He told me. I was...I was hung up on Alex, Alexander Hamilton- we dated for a bit at one point. I made the mistake of saying I didn't feel the same way. Now, I realize I do feel that way but...but now it's too late. He doesn't feel that way anymore." They looked away, embarrassed, as if they were being judged. "Sorry."

"These are some of the toughest years of your life. You win some, you loose some. You have to keep moving and shifting until you click into the spot where you were supposed to be. If you care enough about this guy to bring the case to your professor, pursue him but don't force yourself on him. If he loved you for years, it's unlikely that there isn't a little spark left." He smiled kindly, patting their hand.

Laf nodded, smiling awkwardly. "Thank you, Sir. It's been kind of...hard lately. With Thomas and all that going on."

"I can only imagine," Washington said softly. "Do you know when he should be back?"

Laf shrugged. "Soon, I think. He's doing pretty well. I'm visiting him later." They opted not to mention the fact that he didn't remember them.

"Tell him I wish him a quick recovery."

"Of course, Sir. I should go."

"I'll see you later."

They caught Alex and John outside, sitting on a bench in the courtyard, practically lying on top of each other. John was petting Alex's hair, holding him close. "Hey," he said, looking up.

"Is everything alright?" they asked, sitting down.

"We just had a run in with Charles Lee."

"You know him?"

John's eyes darkened. "We were close."

"What did he do?"

Alex sat up, shaking his head. "He decided it would be fucking great to tell me that I'd get deported back to my, quote, "hurricane-prone, sickness ridden island home," and, of course, that ended pretty well."

"I had to restrain him," John said, a small smile on his face.

"Well then," Laf said. "You aren't illegal though."

Alex shook his head. "Nope. Are you?”

"Nope. He's a dick, Alex. Don't listen to him. Immigrants- we get the job done." They laughed, lightly punching Alex's shoulder.

"Hell yeah we do," he chucked, high fiving them.

Laf smiled. "Just ignore him, man. He's a little bitch."

John laughed. "That's what I said. With Lee, you have to ignore him. He wants attention, positive or negative."

"How did you ever put up with him?" Alex asked.

"He used to be kind and sweet," John said quietly, looking down.

Alex squeezed his hand. "Come on. Let's go inside."

The halls were almost empty, a few scattered students eating, studying, or sleeping outside of closed classrooms. James was one of them, reading a few pages of his textbook and looking exhausted.

"James," Laf said softly, grabbing his attention. "Hi."

"Oh, hi," James answered, looking up. "How are you? He looked even more terrible up close. There were bags under his eyes, showing up dark on his already dark face and his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep

"You look terrible," Laf commented gently. "Is it about Thomas?"

James shrugged. "A little. I sleep in his hospital room."

"You do?"

"I go after you leave. He liked the company."

"I'm sure. But you need to sleep, James," Laf said worriedly.

"I'll sleep tonight," James assured, standing and stretching. "I'm fine."

The bell rang and Laf only nodded and patted his shoulder. "You'd better." Then the two of them, Alex, and John hurried off to class.

The lesson was rather boring to everyone but James and Alex. Washington talked about the unspoken laws of debate, such as posture, and assigned five pages of the textbook to read. Alex listened intently to every word, which John found funnily endearing. James took careful notes to bring to Thomas, eyes sliding shut every few minutes.

“Now,” Washington said, “seeing as our last debate captain has stepped down, the teachers have taken it upon themselves to choose the next one.” All heads turned to Alex. He had grown surprisingly popular, known for fighting everyone and everyone. Washington laughed. “I suppose you all already know who it is. Alexander Hamilton.”

The class applauded. Alex looked pleasantly surprised. “Good job, Babe,” John said, kissing his cheek. He didn't care who was watching.

“Thanks!” Alex whispered, laughing.

In the next few minutes, the class was released. Laf quietly congratulated Alex and hurried over to James. "What class do you have next?" they asked him.

James shrugged. "Political history with Talmadge."

"Nothing of importance happens in that class. Sleep."

"Need notes for Thomas."

Laf sighed. "Thomas will understand. Sleep."

James looked like he might put up a fight but the Washington dismissed them and he nodded in defeat, making his way to his next class.

It had been unbelievably hard for James these past weeks. Despite Thomas remembering him, they were not back to anywhere near normal. Thomas was apprehensive about reading the journal James wrote for him, terrified that it might alter his newly found perception of everything. James couldn't blame him.

Thomas's father hadn't come by at all. James knew Thomas wanted to see him if only for the comfort of having blood family there during this horrible time. They had called him a few times, informed him that his son would like to see him. Peter dismissed them quickly, claiming to be far too busy. The hurt in Thomas's eyes was all too clear.

James did not, in fact, sleep in class, forcing tired eyes open and shaking hands to copy down notes. It had been days now and he was aware that he was pushing his body to the limit but he couldn't bring himself to care. Thomas was his priority. He needed to protect and take care of Thomas. Lafayette was kind to be concerned but it was wasted. Nothing they said could make him rest. Everyday in class was anxiety inducing and James found himself thinking only of how soon he could see Thomas, make sure he was okay. His grades were dropping, not by much, but enough for a teacher to take notice apparently. That teacher so happened to be Professor George Washington.

The professor caught James as his classes ended and he was beginning to head home. "James," he called. James stopped, turning around.

"Sir? Do you need something?"

Washington beckoned him into the empty classroom. "I have a free period. Join me. I think we need to talk."

"Sir?" James felt his stomach drop.

"You aren't in trouble, and I'm going to be very blunt. A few of your teachers- including myself- are concerned about you. Your grades have dropped, you aren't paying attention, and you look exhausted." There was a light of genuine concern in his eyes.

James looked down, fiddling with his hands. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't apologize. I want to know how I can help."

"Help?" he echoed, confused.

Washington leaned forward, sighing. "Is it about Thomas?"

James nodded. "I'm worried about him. I've been distracted. I'm sor-"

Washington held up a hand. "Don't. I understand. I can give you an extension on the paper. Go home and rest. I'll speak with your other teachers and we’ll try and figure out what to do.”

James smiled, nodding. "Thank you, sir."

"Of course. Go home and sleep. Remember, my classroom is always open."

James nodded again. "Thank you." He hurried out the door, feeling a little lightheaded.

When was the last time he ate? Yesterday? He had soup on Monday. Today was...today was Wednesday. That certainly explained it. Too tired to walk or trust himself to drive, he called a taxi, planning to pick up his and Thomas's car the next day.  
The driver chatted the majority of the ride, leaving pauses for James to awkwardly reply. He had a pounding headache and her loud, obnoxious voice didn't help. He hurried inside, steadying himself on the counter when a rush of vertigo struck him. "I can't keep doing this," he breathed to himself.

Ten minutes later, he was at his table, sipping a bowl of soup and starting to feel better. The thought of homework was unbearable at the moment so all he could do was read a book.

After this, he would go see Thomas. Perhaps he had read the journal by now. Perhaps not.  
Either way, he wanted to see him again. James maintained the constant hope that everything would work out in the end despite knowing deep, deep inside that it might not


	43. Chapter 43

Thomas couldn't breathe.

The hospital room was silent. Nothing moved, nothing spoke. Even the loud heating system recognized that this was a place of silence. The digital clock was silently displaying the numbers 6:48pm. Slowly, hesitantly, he picked up the journal that had remained untouched for several days. He couldn't have brought himself to read it before now, and he knew he had to. He opened it to the first page. It felt like a death sentence.

The first had only a sentence on it, reading: _Dear Thomas, I wrote this in hopes that one day we would become what we were before everything fell apart -James Madison_

Already Thomas felt his chest tighten in anxiety. He took a deep breath, turning the page, afraid of what he'd see.

_I don't know when I'll give this to you. I don't know if you'll have relapsed before and forget me once again. My name is James Madison. I grew up in a small town in Virginia and moved here for college. That's where we met._  
In class, we sat next to each other. When I first saw you, I felt something stir inside me, something laid dormant for so long. I hadn't liked anyone after a particularly messy breakup and I swore I'd never let myself be hurt like that again. That, of course, didn't work. You came along and sat next to me. Day after day, I found myself falling a little deeper in this great abyss I'm in now. To me, liking someone goes two ways; you teeter on the edge of an abyss and fall in, or you stay safe on the outer rim. I fell almost immediately.  


_When I found you one day, sitting with your back to a tree crying, I invited you in. You explained to me that you were bisexual. I told you I was gay. This was the day you called your father and told him. It didn't go particularly well and when he wasn't convinced, I offered to pretend to be your boyfriend and you accepted._ _Afterwards, I cursed myself for it, thought you must have been disgusted or weirded out and I already knew I had feelings for you. I agreed to allow myself to admire you from afar, but never touch. You were art, a glass sculpture. I couldn't touch you and, god, I wanted to.  
_

_I saw another side of you that day. A fragile side, the eyes of a scared child in the face of a young man. You were vulnerable and I felt as if I needed to protect you. Your father was hostile towards us and eventually, after a few outbursts, you left and I followed. You ran into a field, practically hysterical, and I tried my hardest to calm you. Eventually we kissed. You asked me if it was alright. As if I would've said no.  
One thing lead to another and we ended up having sex in that field outside of your father's mansion. _

_You looked godly under the moon. There were no words to describe it, honestly. Your skin glowed, Thomas. Glowed. You were blindingly beautiful, as if you embodied the sun and stars. And, god help and forgive me, the way you looked at me. I can never forget it. Your eyes lit up, tracing me. You took me apart and I was helpless. I was already in so deep, already far beyond saving.  
_

_We called Lafayette to pick us up. Hercules Mulligan came with. It was awkward, I remember, but you fell asleep with your head on my should so it was worth it. They dropped us off at a hotel. We got odd looks, whispers behind backs, but we slept curled next to each other. It was peaceful, something I was sure I could get used to. I did.  
_

_We never had a major milestone, I guess. We had sex the same day we started officially dating, we never went on a proper date until months after, but I remember when I realized Ioved you. It was nearly a month into dating when I finally truly acknowledged it.  
_

_We were standing side by side on the beach, watching the sun rise. You had woken me early in the morning, kissing my back and shoulders until I moved. We walked down to the ocean, hand in hand, and sat on the sand. We sat for hours, watching the stars fade away and the sun rising over the water. The water was gold and the sand was stained pink. You were golden in the new dawn, your hair was frosted gold, your skin was tinged orange and yellows and it struck me then that I was fortunate enough to be with you, that in the mad course of our lives, we managed to meet. I realized all at once that I wouldn't give you up for anything, that I'd die rather than see you hurt. I couldn't put a name to it at first but I guess they call it love._  
We continued with our lives with zero conflict between us. I reminded you to eat and sleep and you held me when it had been rough day. We supported each other mutually. Our only difference was Alexander Hamilton.  


_I don't know how much you remember him but you two were basically sworn enemies but, in a way, he's why we met on that rainy day, so we do owe him. Anyways, you hated him. I didn't. He's loud, abrasive, rude, witty. You and him are rather similar, if I am honest. We respected out varied opinions though you would rant for hours about him sometimes. I found it endearing._

_A while later, you decided to treat me to a proper date, since we had never had one. This is were everything went wrong. It was a beautiful restaurant and, while there were some annoying homophobes there, it was amazing and I'll never forget it. What happened afterwards, however, I wish I could.  
_

_We were walking. Not doing anything but walking, and occasionally kissing but that's beside the point. You stopped me, said there was something you wanted to say. Three men attacked us. Two had me. You risked your life to save me. They injected you with some sedative and threw you against the wall. You have to understand that I was powerless to do anything but I did fight them off. By the time I got to you, I was afraid I was too late. You were unconscious and bleeding. You wouldn't wake up and I was terrified, more so than I've ever been before. I called an ambulance, they took you to a hospital. I road in the ambulance with you, praying. What else could I do?  
_

_After they took you, I called Laf. They came, bringing Herc with once more. We were allowed up into your room after hours of waiting. Finally, we went up to see you.  
_

_We sat there for hours, waiting. It was painful, it was stressful. I hated every second but I knew that I needed to be there when you woke up. I could never forgive myself if I wasn't.  
_

_When you did, I was, of course, there beside you. I held you up when you started choking on that damn tube. I was there when the nurse helped you take it out. I remember every detail but the part that stands out most in my mind is that blank look you gave me before you asked who I was. Then the world seemed to burn around me, to fall apart. I didn't understand. I couldn't fathom how so much of our relationship had been wiped away so quickly. For days, I holed up in our room, trying to work through this. I didn't eat, didn't sleep. I blamed myself, I blamed everything on myself.  
_

_When you remembered me, it was a beam of light through a sea of darkness, a last hope we would be back to normal some day. I hope it will be.  
_

_You've just read through a compressed version of us. I'm sorry it wasn't more detailed but every word was a stab of nostalgia to the heart. I'll tell you more someday, if you are ever interested. Now that you've come to the end, I want to take a moment and say those words that you wanted to say. I know what you were going to tell me and I want to say them to you but, honestly, I can't. Not not knowing if you feel the same way. Not by speech, and since I still want you to know, I'm going to write it._

_Thomas Jefferson, I love you.  
_

_I love you more than the sun and the stars and the moon. I love you more than anyone I've ever been with. I would sacrifice everything for you in a heartbeat. I love you so much that I can't comprehend it, and sometimes it scares me.  
_

_I love you.  
_

_-James Madison_

Thomas set the letter down. His heart was pounding and he let out a dry sob, caressing the book slightly. The clock beeped, signaling 7:00.

Everything was in there.

Everything he couldn't remember.

In this tiny book was everything he'd feared and everything he'd been wondering. He shut his eyes, thinking back, trying to place the words, the memories. With a shock, he remembered the field, remembered James, remembered his beauty that night. He was breathtaking, otherworldly. How could Thomas have ever forgotten that?

A knock sounded throughout the room, shattering the silence. Thomas jumped a little, surprised.  
The first thing he did when James entered was simply stare at him, wondering how James managed to contain these two types of breathtaking beauty. While he had been godly then, his cheeks and nose were slightly red and the scarf wrapped around his neck his his chin and mouth. He was adorable, honestly.

The second thing he did was push himself out of the bed and move towards James, touching his arm gently. "I love you too," Thomas breathed. "I love you. More than anything."

Then they kissed. James pulled his scarf off, abandoning all dignity, and crashed his lips against Thomas's, pushing him backwards. They stayed there, kissing and embracing for nearly a minute. Them Thomas pulled away, letting his hand trail over James' cheeks, his face, fall down to his chest. 

"I love you," he whispered again.

James felt tears burn his eyes. "You read it?"

"I couldn't postpone it any longer. I was afraid I wouldn't like what it read."

"Did you?"

Thomas nodded. "Of course."

"I love you," James breathed. "I meant every word I wrote in there. I love you more than I can comprehend. It's scary at times, the things I know I'd do for you. But I can't help falling in love with you."

Thomas laughed. "Don't quote Elvis to me."

James smiled, eyes filled with tears. "There was no other way to say it."

Thomas felt his chest constrict with emotion. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"You're too good for me."

"Don't say that," Thomas chided. "We're perfect."

James hummed. "Yes. We certainly are."

"They've decided to keep me one last night, give me some sort of memory test, and then let me go," Thomas said softly. "I'm coming home tomorrow."

James squeezed his hand. "I missed waking up next to you...I guess you don't remember that part."

"I remember that field that night, under the stars. I remember you finding me and inviting me in in that rain. I remember when I realized I loved you."

"You do?" James asked, suddenly looking a bit nervous.

Thomas smiled. "We literally just got out for winter break. In Washington's classroom. He saw me release your hand when he looked over at us, remember that?"

"Of course. He told us that it didn't matter who we loved or how we identified and to make sure we always hold on to the people we love so that we don't loose them, and I said-"

"-you said, "I don't plan on letting go anytime soon." And suddenly, I realized that I would be absolutely overjoyed if I could spend the rest of my life with you." James looked away, letting out a quiet sob.

Thomas looked concerned. "You alright?"

James shook his head. Then nodded. Then shook his head again. "I don't know. I was so, so scared you'd never remember me for so long and now...I just..." He sunk to the floor, pulling Thomas with him. "I don't know."

Thomas wrapped his arms around him, holding him to his chest. "I could never forget you. Not permanently. It's alright for you to not know. Just remember that I love you so much, alright?"

"Alright." James tucked his hand against Thomas's chest. He had lost weight since he had been in the hospital. James could feel his ribs, only slightly. He was still Thomas. "Can we stay like this?"

"As long as you want."

"Forever?"

Thomas pressed a kiss to his hair. "Even longer."


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for physical and verbal violence

Theodosia was more than terrified. Today was the day. Today she would end whatever terrible relationship she had with Jacques.

Today was going to be a new start. 

She and Aaron had talked about it for a while before they came to the conclusion that this was best for both of them. He was worried about her safety, as was she, but she could put up with his constant verbal and physical abuse no longer. She had no way of knowing how he'd react to the news and her stomach was churning with anxiety.

She'd also spoken to Maria Lewis, knowing she had been in an eerily similar situation. Maria had told her that she left that it was the right choice to end things with him, but also pointed out that she had had little experience in that area. The only reason James and her relationship had ended was because he'd almost killed him.

"Are you sure now's the right time?" Aaron had said. "Remember, babe. Patience is a virtue."

Theo had heaved a deep breath, pulling him close. "I know. I can't do this any longer. I love you. If I'm not back in an hour, call the police."

"I love you," he breathed, and she was certain that he'd be pacing the house until she came back.

"I love you too."

The words held a deeper meaning, an “if I don't come back” was woven into the three words. It felt like saying goodbye to someone as they lay on their deathbed, breathing their last breaths. It felt solemn and cold, like a vast wasteland of fear and anxiety. Theo turned towards the door, hesitating one last time.

So many things to say, to confirm. If she died, what would her last words be? "I love you," she said again. "Forever." Aaron looked like he might cry.

  
She had headed out around 2:38pm that day. Sure, she had skipped school but this was the only time he would be available for a while. Any other time he'd be at a bar. By 2:47, she was in their apartment, gathering her courage and making her way into the hall.

"Jack?" she said softly, pausing in the doorway to their shared bedroom. The entire room reeked of sex.

Jack looked up from a Playboy. His black hair flopped in his eye and he practically glared at her. "What?"

"How are you?"

Jack smiled, the soft exterior hiding the monster. "It's been a good day." He held up three fingers. "Three girls in one day." She felt bile rise in her throat.

"That's great," she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

His eyes narrowed. "You've put on a bit, you know? Maybe loose a little." 

Theo looked away, a sick feeling rising in her stomach. She swallowed. "Sorry. I...I actually have something to tell you."

"This had better be important." He gestured to the magazine. "Need to finish this and get out to meet with the King."

The King. She'd heard the name before, but she had no idea who that was. The King of what? She'd thought it could be George King at first when Peggy had told her about him, but now she wasn't so certain

"Don't get mad," she begged, any plan had fled her mind, "but I don't think this is working."

For a split second his eyes looked furious, but then he relaxed his posture and stood up. "Theo..." he said, almost questioningly. "Why?"

For a moment she could have sworn she saw a little of that man she used to know in his stance, that kind man she had loved once upon a time. This was an act, him trying to guilt trip her into staying. Did Maria have to got through this? She shook her head. "It's not working."

"You're ending this?"

Theo nodded. He stepped towards her and she flinched back, expecting the worst. Instead, he reached out to touch her hair.

"Don't," she said, sharp and hard. A sharp smack whipped her head back, stinging her cheek. Instinctively, she stepped back and brought a hand to her face. "I'm leaving," she breathed, fear and anger seeping into her blood, coloring it bright, blazing red, like the fires in the centre of the Earth. "Don't come after me. Don't touch me. If I see you again, I will call the police."

Jack stepped towards her, eyes blazing. The man she used to know was gone, disappeared. "Don't you dare!"

"You can't stop me," she hissed, backing away.

"You fucking bitch!" he shouted, jumping at her.

Theo shrieked, moving aside. She grabbed her shoes, not bothering to put them on before she was out the door. "It's over!" she shouted into the hall where Jack was standing, face shadowed and dark. He looked like the devil brought to human form, eyes glowing in the grey half light.

"If you leave..." he paused, "I'll kill myself!" A cold shock went through her chest.

"You stopped loving me years ago!" she cried, feeling tears forming. "You are just afraid of loosing control over me." She slid the ring off her finger, throwing it at him. It hit the doorframe and bounced inside. "Take your damn ring! I never want to see it again!"

"Aaron Burr, right?"

Theo nodded. There was nothing he could do now. "Aaron Burr."

Jack laughed. "I'm so stupid," he grunted. "Should have killed the bastard years ago. But no matter. He'll leave you. Who wouldn't?"

"He won't," Theo hissed. "He loves me".

Jack laughed, a mangled, horrible sound. "Who could love you? You ugly, stupid, fat bitch."

"Shut up!" Theo shouted. "You can't dictate my self worth anymore. I'm leaving." She turned, face still stinging in the cold breeze. Suddenly, something heavy crashed into the back of her head, causing her to stumble. She assumed it was a plate he had thrown. There was blood. Hot, sticky blood running down the back of her neck, staining the ground. It was 2:56. She ran as fast as she could with black spots dotting her vision. She ran and a sense of relief filled her.

It was over. She felt tears, cold on her face. This was over. She had done it. Theo let out a sob, slowing down. It was 3:00. It was over. She pushed open the door to Aaron and hers apartment, stumbling into the living room. It was over.

"Theo!" Suddenly, she was being held up. There were steady, strong arms wrapped around her and she was safe. "Talk to me."

"He got mad," she whispered, burying her face in Aaron's chest. "It's over." The adrenaline kicking through her blood had subsided, leaving her exhausted.

  
"I'm calling the police," Aaron whispered, stroking her hair. He flinched when he felt the sticky blood on his hand. "What did he do to you?"

Theo took a shuddering breath. "Slapped me and threw probably a plate at the back of my head. He threatened to kill himself."

"Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"No!" Theo let out a sob, half relieved and half bubbling with every other emotion on the planet. "No. I'm fine. Just...don't let go." She clutched at the back of Aaron's shirt. "I love you."

Aaron gave a breathy laugh, pulling her even closer. "I love you. But I need to make a call. We can stay like this, just hold on." She felt him shifting, heard him dialing. "Hello?....we're fine but a man threatened to kill himself and just attacked my girlfriend.....he's-"

Theo tuned out, concentrating on controlling her breathing. She was alright. She was alright. The back of her head throbbed painfully and she could feel the dried blood on the back of her head, could feel it slowly leaking out and down her neck from split skin. She sighed, pressing her face against Aaron's chest. He wrapped an arm around her, still talking on the phone, presumably to the police. He smelled like books and coffee. "I love you," she breathed again. She couldn't say it enough.

What if he'd killed her? What if something had happened? She needed Aaron to know just how much he was loved. She needed to know he loved her back, because those words kept replaying in her head, despite knowing they weren't true.

_He'll leave you._

"I love you too," he whispered away from the phone, sensing her thoughts.

Theo closed her eyes and sat up, away from Aaron, trying to stop the room from spinning. He looked at her in concern. "I'm fine," she mouthed.

Aaron didn't take his eyes off her and he ended the call. "The police are going to his address right now. He will be apprehended and the case will be taken to court. If they rule in your favor, you can get get a restraining order."

"Thank god," she said softly.

Aaron smiled. "You alright? Let me see."

She turned around, lifting her hair so that he could inspect the damage. His cold fingers sent tingles through her neck as they brushed her skin. "Anything bad?" she asked.

"You're fine. Want ice?"

"I told you I was fine. Don't need ice," she said, standing. Spots danced across her vision momentarily. "It's over, Aaron. I'm free." She laughed softly. "I'm free."

Aaron smiled, guiding her to the sofa. "We did it, Babe. You did it."

"I gave him the ring back," she said as he sat her down and wrapped a blanket around her. "I should have kept it. We could use the money. It wasn't that ugly anyways."

Aaron wrapped an arm around her. "You'll have a prettier one one day," he whispered.

Theo didn't hear. "I'm tired," she breathed.

"Let me check for a concussion and then you can sleep," he said, turning on the flashlight on his phone. He shined it in her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. "You're fine."

"Thanks." She nestled into his side, closing her eyes. "Sorry about this."

"Sleep," Aaron said softly. "I don't mind at all." He stroked her hair, careful of the bloody spot on the back of her head. "I love you."

"Love you too."

Within five minutes she was asleep. Aaron couldn't blame her. The day had been emotionally and physically draining. He shifted slightly, removing a box from his pocket. He opened it slowly, revealing a beautiful silver and diamond ring. It had been his mother's. In her will she had left it to him with a note saying "for your future partner, whoever they may be." He did plan on giving it to the woman he hoped would be his future partner. Not today, but someday soon. 

Theo shifted in her sleep slightly and Aaron froze, closing the box and slipping the ring back into his pocket. He watched Theo's facial expressions, wondering if she was having nightmares. His heart melted when her eyes slowly blinked open, warm and dark.

"Aaron?"

"Go back to sleep," Aaron whispered. "I'm here."

_Someday._


	45. Chapter 45

The double date may or may not have been a good idea. 

It started with Eliza wanting to take Maria out to a nice little restaurant but Maria had decided otherwise. "Eliza," she had said, "I need to get out. It scares me, it really does, but I can't hide from people any longer. We should go to a party."

"You ready for that?" Eliza had asked, taking her hand. "A month again you couldn't even go to Alex and John's house without panicking."

Maria smiled. "I've gotten a little better. Could we have other people come? I prefer more people."

"Of course," Eliza murmured tenderly. "Whatever makes you the most comfortable. My sisters can come too."

Maria smiled. "Thanks."

Their relationship was...complicated, to say the least. There was no sex, no pet names, and no "I love you"s. Maria obviously wasn't ready for any of that yet, and apologized frequently for it, despite how many times Eliza told her it was perfectly alright. 

Sometimes they slept in different beds on Maria's bad days, which came frequently. She would either want to be left alone or never have Eliza out of her sight. Either way, Eliza obliged without complaint. She couldn't imagine what Maria must have been going through, the horrors in her past. All she wanted was for Maria to see the family she had around her- Angelica, Peggy, Lafayette, Herc, John, Alex, and herself. 

There was a party being held at one of the fraternities for anyone interested Saturday night at 6pm. John had found out about it and told everyone. Eliza's sisters had decided to come, despite Peggy not even being in college yet. Laf had declined, Herc had opted out. Thomas, James said, wasn't quite ready to be exposed to that environment should it trigger flashbacks and decided to stay home with him. In the end, Eliza, her sisters, Maria, John and Alex decided to come. 

"Maria?" Eliza asked softly. It was 5:30 the day of and the two of them were getting ready. "You okay?"

Maria was gripping the lipstick so hard her knuckles were turning white and her hand was shaking. "I'm alright," she whispered.

"We don't have to go."

"I'm fine."

Eliza exhaled, gently taking her hand. "Obviously not. John and Alex won't mind if we don't go."

Maria sighed, leaning her head on Eliza's shoulder. "I want to. Stay with me the entire time?"

"I promise," Eliza whispered softly, stroking her hair. "Stand up. I need to do my makeup."

Maria obliged, squeezing Eliza's hand as she did so. "You don't need makeup."

"Neither do you," Eliza murmured. "I set out a few outfits for you."

_I love you,_ Maria wanted to say. _I love you_. But she couldn't. Not without picturing James cornering her against the wall, eyes furious and terrifying, whispering _"I'm doing this because I love you. I love you."_

"Maria!"

Maria blinked, clearing spots from her vision. Eliza was gazing at her in concern. "Sorry," she said quickly, instinctively. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she replied. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You lying?"

Maria shrugged. "Only a little."

Eliza squeezed her hand. "Fair enough."

While Eliza did her makeup, Maria went to the bathroom and changed into a short red dress skirt and red halter top. She smiled slightly at her reflection, feeling happy about her appearance for the first time in a long time. She sat down, mentally preparing herself for the party, for the noises, the people, the lights. She was strong. This shouldn't be a challenge. Eliza knocked on the door a few minutes later.

"It's 5:40. John and Alex just got here." When Maria didn't respond, Eliza's tone switched from gentle to worried. "You okay in there?"

"I'm fine," Maria sad softly, opening the door. "I'm-" she stopped, suddenly breathless.

Eliza was dressed in a flowing blue skirt studded with little silver stones. Her bodice was fitting, sleeves to her elbows and cut to expose her pale shoulders. Her makeup was simple, her normal style, plus smoky eye and soft pink lipstick and an abundance of highlighter.

Eliza cocked her head. "Maria?"

Maria smiled. _God, you are gorgeous._ "You look fantastic."

"Look in the mirror," Eliza laughed. "You're so beautiful."

She took Eliza's hand, dragging her out of the bathroom. Eliza relaxed into her hold, not used to Maria making such displays of affection. "We should get going, shouldn't we?" Maria asked.

As they entered the living room, she smiled at Alex and John, both of whom were wearing t-shirts and jeans. She tensed as Alex's eyes scanned her, looking her up and down. Suddenly, she was way to exposed.

"Liza?" she said softly.

"Yeah?" Eliza asked.

"I'm going to put tights on. Do we have enough time?"

Eliza nodded, squeezing her hand. "We don't have to be right on time."

John gave her a soft smile. "We don't mind waiting a little. Your comfort is more important than the party."

Maria shot her a grateful half smile. "Sorry." She left the room, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. It only took her a moment to find the tights and another minute to put them on. That was better. She tugged on her skirt. She could do this.

They left the house at 5:56 and arrived at the frat party at 6:10. There were already cars parked alongside the driveway and filling the street. Loud music blared from inside the house and Eliza glanced over to check on Maria. She was clutching her skirt, taking slow, deep breaths. Her face was already sweating but her eyes were full of excitement and fire.

"You good?" Eliza asked.

"Just don't leave me alone," Maria whispered.

"Promise."

They climbed out of the uber and headed into the house. Almost immediately, a half naked guy with a can of beer bumped into Maria, knocking her into Alex, who caught her. "Fuck!" Maria cursed, pushing herself up.

"Sorry."

"It's cool," Alex said with a grin. He glanced over at John. "John, you want me to get us drinks?"

John shrugged. "I don't drink. It makes me reckless and...well, you know."

Alex's eyes darkened a little as he realized what his boyfriend was implying. "I won't have any either."

"No," he hurried to say, "You can. I'm just going to stay sober."

"It's fine," Alex said softly, squeezing his hand. "I wasn't going to unless you were anyways."

John gave a slightly guilty smile. "You sure?"

"Positive."

Another drunk guy stumbled over to them, grabbing John's arm for support and leaving over towards Eliza. "Are you from Heaven? Cause you're the only ten I see...wait, fuck! I meant-" And with that he proceeded to vomit on the floor right in from of Eliza, who jumped back with a shriek, getting her shoes out of the way just in time.

"Ew," Maria commented, wrapping an arm around Eliza. She didn't know what it was but the setting made her feel more reckless. "The party started...15 minutes ago. How are people already this drunk?"

"I don't know," Eliza said, gingerly stepping over the vomit as the guy stumbled away from John and back into the crowd. "Ugh. I have to make sure my sisters aren't completely hammered. Peggy had better be completely sober."

Maria smiled, an unsure look on her face. "Yeah...look back there."

She nodded towards the far wall of the house. You could barely make out if it was her or not but Peggy, or someone who looked very much like Peggy, was pressed up against the wall by a older looking guy and violently making out with him, her legs around him waist. Eliza let out an almost inhuman shriek that drew the attention of several people nearby.

"What the actual hell is she doing?" She turned around, looking for Alex and John, but they had disappeared.

"She's aromatic and asexual," Maria mused, smiling as Eliza's face began to slowly turn red with anger. "What's even happening?"

Eliza grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowd of people, heading straight for the youngest Schuyler. "MARGARITA SCHUYLER!" she shouted. Peggy looked up, eyes widening. She whispered something to the man she had been with. He set her down and turned and vanished into the myriad of people.

"Liza! Maria!" Peggy said, swaggering towards them. "You decided to join us." 

"Peggy, what the fuck?" Maria asked, laughing. The very tone of the place seemed to cast a spell of euphoria. She felt better than she had in a while. "Who was he?"

Peggy shrugged. "Honestly, no idea. I think his name might be Jordan. Or Michael. Michael Jordan, I don't know. It would be cool if he was Michael Jordan though.”

“Are you drunk?” Eliza's eyes were getting more and more dangerous. "Where the heck is Angie?"

“Not even tipsy.” Peggy shrugged. "Last I saw her, she was downing shots. I think it was a competition."

"Did she win?" Maria asked.

"Maria!" Eliza exclaimed, eyes wide. "Probably. Pegs, where are they serving shots?"

"Kitchen. I'll come with you."

"Darn right you are," Eliza said. "Come on."

The three of them made their way to the kitchen slowly but surely, navigating through half naked couples and several groups of students passing joints or downing bottles. None of them were surprised to see Angelica sitting across from a tall blonde guy, two shots sitting between them and about five empty ones stacked beside her. A tall Asian boy yelled something and both Angelica and the blond grabbed a shot, downing it. Angelica's empty glass hit the table first and several people around them broke out cheering.

"ANGELICA SCHUYLER!" Eliza shouted over the noise. "COME HERE NOW."

Angelica looked up, narrowing her eyes. She said something to the people around her, which resulted in a resounding noise of disappointment, before she made her way over to her sisters, impossibly steady on her feet.

"Hey," she said with a smile.

"What's up?"

Eliza glared at her. "It's 6:23. The party started 23 minutes ago and you're on your...is it sixth shot?"

Angelica shrugged. "Hate the sin, love the sinner. What's up?"

"Peggy was making out with some 30 year old over there!" Eliza exclaimed. "You were supposed to be watching her."

Angelica's eyes widened. "Margarita Schuyler!"

Peggy shrunk under her sister's glare. Maria rubbed her back soothingly. "He wasn't 30," she said, straightening, a devious grin on her face. "He was 35."

"Peggy, what the fuck?" Maria said, aghast.

Peggy shrugged. "He's the hosts brother. And he's pretty rich."

"Peggy," Eliza moaned. "Tell me he's not your sugar daddy."

She smiled. "Okay. I won't tell you."

"Peggy!" Angelica exclaimed. "Our dad's a senator. We're already kinda rich. The hell do you need him for?"

"Chill. I'm scamming him." She plucked a drink out of a random persons hand and downed it.

Angelica knocked the cup out of her grip. "That could be drugged!" she exclaimed. "And what do you mean, you're scamming him?"

"I met him a few days ago," Peggy explained, "and I had to listen through a two hour mansplaining lecture of why women are inferior and should be denied to right to abortion, regardless of circumstances. Whatever he buys me, I sell and donate to Planned Parenthood. All I have to do is kiss him and hang on his arm when his family visits."

Maria watched a slow smile spread across Angelica's face. "Pegs, you're a genius."

"Oh, I know."

"That doesn't erase the issue of you clearly being underage and him being thirty five," Eliza said, obviously stressing. Maria squeezed her hand and she leaned her head of her shoulder, relaxing a little.

"I'm eighteen in less than a month, Liza," Peggy pointed out. "It's cool."

"She's right," Maria reasoned. "He could get in huge trouble for this- you both could. And he's so much older, that's a recipe for a bad relationship." She shuddered and Eliza wrapped an arm around her, tangling them together.

"This is the gayest shit I've ever seen," Peggy commented. "Stop worrying. Maria, I know, but it's cool. It's fun. I know what's at stake and I know I have the situation under control."

"If you're sure," Maria said doubtfully. “Don't swear, you're still the baby of the family here.”

Angelica sighed. "For gods sake, guys. Change the subject. Peggy can do what she wants right now, but if things escalate to anything she's uncomfortable with, she'll come straight to us, isn't that right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Hey, can I try out the shots game?"

"No!" Eliza and Angelica snapped at the same time.

Maria backed away. The noise and smell of weed and alcohol was getting to her. It was only 6:56. "I'm going to use the bathroom," she whispered to Eliza.

"Want me to come?"

"I'm fine." She slipped away, dodging hands and cups and several couplings practically naked on the floor. The bathroom door was locked so she stepped outside and almost immediately ran into Alexander Hamilton.

"Oh, hi," he said with a smile. "What are you doing out here?"

She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her chest as his eyes scanned her. "It's too loud in there."

"Ugh, I know." Alex sat down on the steps, gesturing for her to join him. "You look nice."

"Thanks... where's John?" she asked, deflecting to compliment.

Alex shrugged. "Somewhere. Probably the bathroom."

She furrowed her brows, cool wind whipping her hair around her face. "You aren't concerned at all?"

"He'll be fine." The lack of concern was disconcerting. Maria had had the image of Alex and John as some inseparable, caring, concerned couple, but seeing how distant they seemed to be was like a blow to the heart.

"Oh." His eyes were on her and her heart was beating faster with discomfort. But she kind of enjoyed it? His eyes on her. She looked away, fiddling with her dress.

The door banged open behind them and John stumbled out. His nose was bleeding and his eye was already swelling. His clothes reeked of alcohol. "Alex!"

Alex was on his feet in an instant. There it was, the concern, the soft touches. Maria felt a little better, seeing that Alex did, in fact, care for John as much as he cared for Alex. "John?" Alex asked. "You alright?"

"Fucking Charles Lee, Love. I'm alright," John hissed. His knee seemed to be painful.

"What happened?" Maria asked softly. 

John clenched his fist, breathing heavily. "Told me if Martha was here, he'd drug her and fuck her. I punched him. He kicked me, tried to take out my knee. I may or may not have pushed him down a flight of stairs."

"Did you drink?" Alex asked, squeezing his hand while also prodding his face gently, checking for any more damage.

"His beer." John gestured to himself. "I didn't have anything."

"I'll fucking kill him," Alex muttered. "He can't say that. Sit down."

John gestured to his knee. "Can't. Help me."

Alex wrapped his arm around his waist, gently attempting to ease him down. John hissed, hurrying his face in Alex's shoulder. Alex made a soft noise of apology, stroking his hair. "Breathe," he whispered, but his eyes were on Maria, on her body, not her face.

Maria shifted away, standing. "I have to find Eliza. Sorry about that, John," she said softly. "He's an asshole. He deserved it." She disappeared back inside.

John let out a shuddering breath. "I'm alright," he whispered before Alex could ask the question. "I'm alright."

"You don't seem alright," Alex said softly, raising a hand to brush his hair back. “You sure?”

"I'm fine," John said. His eyes looked almost afraid, wary.

Alex lowered his hand. "Sorry. I have to ask, what are you hiding?"

"Nothing," John breathed, not meeting Alex's eyes. "It's nothing serious."

"But there is something?"

John smiled. In the dusk light, his face was clammy and pale. His smile was tired and trembling. "It's nothing," he repeated. “He said some things, that's it.”

“Like?”

"We might want to leave soon," John murmured as a clatter what heard inside the house. He stood up quickly as angry voices floated through the door to his ears, his face screwed up in pain. One of the voices was undeniably Charles Lee. "Now!”

Alex nodded, heaving one of John's arms over his shoulder and pulling him along. "Breathe," he whispered as John let out something akin to a moan of pain. "You're okay."

"Shit," John whispered as the voices grew louder. "Run. Run!”

Alex took off, half pulling John along. They cleared the street and several houses before John collapsed, breathing heavily, to the ground. "I can't go any more," he whispered. "Not with my leg."

Alex sat next to him, rubbing his back in soothing circles until he had steadied his breathing. "What would have happened if he had caught us?" Why were you so desperate to leave?

John looked up, face streaked with tears from the pain of running. "He'd have hurt you. That's what he said, that he'd kill you if he had the chance, just to make me suffer. I told him there were no laws I wouldn't break to make sure you were safe."

The words struck Alex deeply. He pressed a kiss to John's cheek, gently murmuring the words into his cheek, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," John whispered. "I'm fucking exhausted."

“Do we need to go to a doctor for your leg?”

He shook his head, relaxing slightly. “It'll be fine tomorrow.”

"I'll call an uber," Alex said softly. "Rest." 

John lay down, placing his head in Alex's lap and closing his eyes. Alex stroked his hair with one hand while phoning a uber with the other. He looked down, heart warming at the absolute vulnerability on John's sleeping face. 

It was 7:20, and, despite being with the boy he loved more than life itself, Alexander Hamilton could not get his mind off of Maria Lewis.

 


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for suicidal actions, transphobic and homophobic slurs.

Thomas came back to school the following week. While he was allowed to come home the previous week, the doctor recommended he stay away from the stress of school for a few more days. Staying home, however, proved to be even more stressful.

"I'm so fucking behind on work," Thomas breathed, pacing the room one Saturday evening at 9:12. "I'm probably failing everything."

James looked up from his laptop. "Thomas, come here."

Thomas stopped pacing and made his way to James. "Yeah?"

"Breathe, babe." He took Thomas's hand in his own. "Breathe. I know you're stressed, okay? We're gonna go around to the teachers tomorrow and ask for extensions."

"And if they don't give me any?" Thomas worried.

"They have to," James assured. "If they don't...well, I can talk to the Dean."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "You'd do that?"

James smiled. "I've told you. The things I'd do for you...it's frightening sometimes."

Thomas sighed. "I missed you. I always knew who you were a little bit. I knew your name. Your face."

James looked downward. "I missed you too. Waking up every morning to an empty pillow next to me was hell."

"I'm glad I'm back."

"So am I." James stood, setting his laptop to the side. He touched Thomas's face gently. "Sometimes I think I'll wake up and you won't be here."

Thomas felt his heart constrict. "I'll always be here."

"You can't promise that."

"Well, I am. I swear that I'll always be here for you. No matter what."

James looked away, heaving in a deep breath. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

He gently placed his hands on James' waist. "I'll keep this one."

"What if something happens again?" James whispered. "What if you forget me? What if you-" he broke off, clenching his fists.

"What?" Thomas tilted his head. "James?"

James shook his head, looking over Thomas's shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes. "Nothing."

"Tell me."

"It's nothing."

Thomas sighed in exasperation. "Don't lie to me. What is it?"

"Nothing!"

"James!"

"Thomas!" James closed his eyes, face crumpling. He looked away, looked up at the clock. 9:20. "You died, Thomas."

A cold shock went through his body, as if his blood had been replaced with ice. "What?

"You died," he repeated in a barely there whisper. "Your heart stopped. You stopped breathing. You were dead. And we lived through that, Laf and I. We watched you die."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to. I lived in a world without you for maybe a minute and it was the worst minute of my life and I wanted to die, okay?” His voice broke and he turned to face the other way, not wanting his tears to be seen. “I would have died without second thought if they couldn't have brought you back."

Thomas took his hands, running his thumb over the back of James'. His hands were shaking. "I'm alive," he said softly. "You're alive. James, it's alright."

"It's not," James whispered, pulling away. "You died. Not even six feet away from me, you died. And do you know what I did? Nothing. I watched you die and I did nothing. I could have had to bury you."

"There was nothing you could have done," Thomas said softly, moving towards him.

"I should have done something," James whispered, determined to beat himself down. "I should have prevented it. Or it should have been me. It should have been me."

Thomas looked as if he had been struck. "No. If it had been you..."

"You would have been safe. And that's what matters. More than anything. Far more than me."

"Don't say that," Thomas said more harshly that he intended. "Don't ever say that."

"It's true."

"No. No, it's not. Because if that had happened we'd be in the exact same situation except flipped." He reached out to take James' hand, pulling away when James stepped back.

"Not now, Thomas. I can't do this right now."

"Do you want me to give you time?" Thomas asked gently.

James shook his head, heaving in a deep breath. "I want you to get mad."

"What?"

"Get mad at me. For not telling you you died. For not protecting you. Please, get mad at something! I can't take this rational calm!" His voice was edging on hysterical, twisting his hands as if trying to twist them off.

"I'm not mad," Thomas said softly, feeling as if it was best to remove himself from the situation. "James, I'm going out for awhile. Calm down. I'll be with Laf, if you need me." Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed a pair of shoes, a coat, and slipped out the door. When it closed behind him, he sunk to the ground, shaking.

He had died. He had died. He had died in front of Laf and James. Of course he had no control over the situation but he was desperate to place blame and blaming himself seemed to be rational. Thomas let out a deep sigh. From inside the house, he heard a muffled sob that twisted his heart. He wanted to run back in, to simply hold and be held until they both fell asleep. He couldn't do that. He had to strong. Thomas stood, quietly walking to the car and climbing inside.

The clock read 9:28.

Perhaps what hurt the most from learning of his death was the knowledge that he had hurt Laf and James, the two people in the world he cared for most, in a way that could never fully heal. Then the added pain of knowing that his father had never even tried to contact him, not even a "get well soon" card. It's not that he had expected it. His father wasn't one for giving but it would have been nice.

Thomas turned the key, backing slowly out into the empty road. He sighed. Keeping one eye on the road, he pulled out his phone, carefully dialing Laf's number. After a long moment, they picked up.

" _Thomas_?"

Immediately Thomas could tell that something was horribly wrong. They sounded distant, their voice full of tears. In the background, wind was whistling. "Laf? Where are you?"

They didn't answer for a long moment. " _I'm fine._ "

"You didn't answer my question." Fear trickled down his spine.

" _You know where,_ " Laf said softly. " _Don't worry."_

Thomas pressed on the gas pedal, speeding down the empty road. His heart pounded. Why could all of them be happy? Why did every day bring new pain and difficulty? "Stay exactly where you are," Thomas breathed, hoping his voice was calmer than he was. "Please."

" _I'll be here._ " They hung up.

"Laf? Laf!" Thomas set the phone aside, gripping the wheel so tightly it hurt. He felt a weight pressing down on his chest, cold anxiety penetrating his every being.

This wasn't happening.

This couldn't be happening. 

This was happening.

This was happening and Thomas needed to get to Laf as fast as he could. The clock read 9:37 and the car sped down the empty road, leaving nothing behind it.

At 9:50, Thomas parked half a block away from where he supposed Laf must be. He took his coat, his phone, and a mini first aid kit- just in case. Silently, he made his way to the old bridge at the edge of a great forest. 

The bridge had a name, as many do, passed down by story tellers and the sorts. The Jumping Man Bridge. It was a legend school kids made up for morbid fun, as some escape from tests and homework and papers. It started a long time ago, perhaps twenty odd years. Five students went out one night, a group suicide. Three jumped into the churning waters thirty feet below, two tied nooses to the railings and jumped, hanging themselves. 

Thomas looked around as he tracked through the campus. The sky was darkening. It was 9:54. The bridge was oddly large. It had high railings, arched and crossed, and was made of sturdy metal instead of wood. The dawning night shone off of it, reflecting silver light off into the trees. There was no sign of Lafayette.

"Laf?" Thomas called, heart in throat. "Lafayette?"

"Thomas." Laf emerged from the shadows covering half the bridge. Their eyes were red and their cheeks were covered in tears.

There was a long pause in which they both looked at each other. "I can explain," they said softly.

Thomas ran forward, stumbling over a branch as they hurried to grab Laf and hold them tightly, hauling them off and away from the bridge. When they were a safe distance, Thomas stood back, not letting go of Laf's arm, keeping them next to him. "You promised," he said, more petrified than hurt.

"I wasn't going to do anything." They looked dazed, distant. Their eyes weren't quite focusing.

"How can I trust you?" Thomas whispered, heart broken. "You told me you'd never come back here. What happened?"

Laf smiled, a sad smile filled with agony. "A lot of things happened."

"Specifics."

They looked down, swaying slightly. "Herc doesn't care for me anymore. I think I love him but I still have feelings for Alex. School’s unbearable, with people whispering behind me, looking at me, and I try. I try so hard not to let it get to me, but…. And everything with the attack has been so stressful, and I miss France. I don't know why but I miss it, I miss my old house, my family- even if they hate me. Dysphoria's been a giant bitch more than ever recently and I can't stop it, and I've been having nightmares."

"About what?" Thomas asked. “Laf, the people who whisper about you don't know you. They don't know how kind and smart and bright you are. It's just that you aren't…you aren't something they see a lot, and it's nothing against you, of course. You're interesting and they can't help but look at you because of that. They aren't judging you.”

They didn't answer, didn't even move.

"What were the nightmares about?" he asked gently, touching their arm.

"You," they said. "Not you doing something," they clarified at the stunned look on Thomas's face. "Just...something that happened."

"The attack?"

They shrugged. "Kind of."

He hesitated before softly asking, "when I died?"

Laf flinched as if they had been slapped. "Did James tell you?"

"Yes." Thomas reached out to touch their arm. "You should have told me earlier."

"How? Imagine if...if James died, if his heart stopped and had to be restarted. How would you tell him?"

"I..." Thomas sighed, unable to give an honest answer. "I don't know."

"Exactly. So how where we supposed to tell you?" Laf looked sorrowful, tired. They glanced back at the bridge.

Thomas wrapped an arm around them. "I don't know. I'm sorry. But Laf, you...you can't do this to us. Not now. Not ever."

Laf turned their face into the crook of Thomas's neck. "You died," they whispered. "You are my family. The only family I've got other than the Schuyler's, and even then, they aren't...you."

"What about Herc?"

"He doesn't want me. We don't really talk."

Thomas sighed. "You two are meant for each other. Give it time. Now, if I'm not wrong, there's something else that's bothering you."

Laf looked almost ashamed. "I won't bother lying to you. I'm too tired for that." They took out their phone, handing it over to Thomas after a moment of hesitation.  
Message after message of pure abuse filled the camera role. Screenshots from Instagram, Facebook, twitter. All from the users @YoullBeBack, and @ImAGeneral, saying things like " _you faggot,_ " _tranny_ ", and " _kill yourself_ ". So many messages saying, "kill yourself." Thomas couldn't even count. He felt a sickening feeling in his stomach.

"Who is this?" he whispered.

Laf shrugged, trying to smile. "I thought it was George King at first."

"At first? How long has this been going on?"

"Months. Since around the beginning of school. I've blocked and reported them multiple times. They always find their way around it." They took the phone back. "I've even gone to Professor Washington. The board didn't do anything."

Thomas felt a tiny sense of betrayal slice through him. He shoved it aside. "You never told us?"

"I didn't want you to worry."

"Not want us to-" Thomas looked around, letting loose a bitter laugh. "No, we definitely aren't worrying."

"I'm sorry."

Thomas bowed his head, gripping Laf's arm. "You can't do this to us."

"I'm sorry," they repeated, voice thick with tears. "But I told you, I wasn't going to do anything. I swear."

"Then what where you planning to do?"

"Thomas..."

He shook his head. "Tell me, Lafayette."

Laf flinched at the use of their full name said in such a harsh manner. Thomas felt a stir of guilt. "I don't know," they said finally. "I just wanted to be there. I don't know."

"Do you want to go back home?" Thomas asked softly, accepting the answer with displeasure. He knew that wasn't the truth.

Laf shook their head. "I can't be alone. Not tonight. I don't trust myself enough for that.” No other explanation was needed.

"Come back to my place. You can sleep on the couch."

"You'd let me do that?" they asked, disbelieving. "Even after tonight?"

Thomas embraced them gently, feeling their shoulders shaking slightly. "You're my family. I love you like a sibling. My home will always be yours too. You will always be welcome in my home...unless you commit an unspeakable crime."

They laughed slightly. "Well then. Let's go home."

"Let's." As they stood up, a little piece of paper tumbled out of their pocket. Discreetly, Thomas picked it up and pocketed it.

They left the bridge at 10:15, arriving at the car at 10:20, and home at 10:33. Thomas was hesitant to go in, worried that James might still be upset. He unlocked the door. "Babe? James?"

He heard footsteps in the hallway and James appeared. "Thomas." He launched himself forward, pulling him into a tight and relentless embrace. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did."  
Thomas hummed soothingly, stroking his hair. "It's fine. It's fine. You had every reason."

James took a shuddering breath before releasing him.  
"I'm sorry."

"I forgive you." Thomas stepped back, gesturing at Laf. "James, Laf's gonna stay with us tonight, okay? There's a little...trouble at home right now."

James smiled, and eyes scanning their tearful face and dirtied clothes. "Hey, Laf. You taking the couch?"

"I suppose," they answered, looking around. "Thank you so much for letting me stay here."

"It's no trouble," James said softly. "Come in. Go lie down on the couch. I'll get blankets."

Laf smiled graciously, collapsing in the couch the first opportunity they had and curling up into themself. They were asleep before James even brought out blankets. 

"I'll cover them," Thomas whispered, kissing James' cheek. "Go to bed. I'll be there in a second."

"Okay." James handed him the blankets. "Love you, babe." He kissed Thomas quickly, hurrying off to their room.

Thomas tenderly draped a blanket over Laf's sleeping form, tucking it around them. He knelt beside them for a while. They had been through so much together, the two of them, and the thought of loosing Laf was like a knife in his heart. Thomas pressed a chaste kiss to their forehead before standing and following James to their room.

"Are they alright?" James asked softly as Thomas climbed into the bed after slipping into sweatpants and a tee shirt.

Thomas settled himself down next to him. "I don't know. James, if I lost them..."

James kissed him, a slow, emotional kiss that spoke where words wouldn't. "I understand. I also understand that it will always be Lafayette and then me. It doesn't bother me," he added. "Not at all. You love them so much, and it hurts me to watch you suffer."

"I love you. Thank you for understanding," Thomas breathed. "God, what would I do without you?"

James shushed him by kissing him softly. "Sleep, love. Sleep."

Thomas obliged, closing his eyes, feeling James' gently hands stroking his hair away from his face. He sank into the dark lull of sleep, allowing himself to be taken care of. James kissed his forehead and that was the last thing he felt before sleep claimed him.

 


	47. Chapter 47

Herc sat on his couch, staring at his phone. Across the room, Maria and the Schuyler's sat, watching him with concern, unsure of what to say. It was 8:39 in the morning.

"Herc," Angelica said softly. "What is it? You called us here. It's been half an hour. Did something happen?"

He looked over at her with dark, tired eyes. "Laf didn't come home last night. They're sleeping and Jefferson and Madison's."

"Are you worried about them?" Peggy asked, leaning forward. She looked tired, more makeup on than usual, and he knew she was trying so hard to be older, to stop being viewed as the baby.

Herc sighed deeply. "I made a mistake. Laf...they told me that they liked me. I...I fucked up big time. I told them I couldn't never be with them unless their heart wasn't compromised. You know they still like Alex. I don't want to compete with that. I know you guys have been wondering why we haven't been talking."

Angelica threw her hands up. “For fucks sake! You two, I swear to God! Not even Liza and Maria took this long!”

“Angelica!” Peggy scolded, slapping her arm.

"I'm so sorry," Eliza said. She and Maria sat curled up on a chair, impossibly close. Her thin, pianist hands threaded through Maria's hair. “But it's true, man. You need to give them this chance, try and help yourselves.”

"I don't know what to tell you," Maria said quietly. "Apologize. Say you want to give this a chance. I don't know."

"We haven't spoken properly in over two weeks. I don't know what to do." He put his head in his hands, taking a shuddering breath. "Oh god, I love them so much. It hurts."

Maria stood, shrugging Eliza off, and moving to sit next to him. She gently pet his hair, rubbing his shoulder simultaneously. "I know," she told him. "I know how that is. Listen to me, you need to talk to them, okay? Nothing will come of pining and stressing. Eliza's right; please try and help yourself, and them.”

Herc sighed, looking up. "I wish it was that simple. I want them, but not when their heart is torn between me and Alex. You know Alex will win every time. Look at him. He's smart, funny, attractive. He and Laf came from extraordinarily similar backgrounds, he's basically perfect. Who wouldn't want him?"

Angelica opened her mouth and then closed it, looking away. For once, she didn't scold him or try and be comforting. Maria twisted her hands, suddenly looking very uncomfortable.

"I don't want them to get hurt. They'll choose Alex but Alex will always choose John and John will always choose Alex. When we fall, and someday we will fall, those two will catch each other and Laf will catch Thomas and I'll catch Laf, and no one will be there to catch me." It wasn't much, but the wall he'd built to hide this pain, these emotions, had just crumbled a tiny bit, letting them peak through.

"I'll be there," Peggy said, determined protectiveness in her voice. "Herc, you're basically my brother, okay? I'll catch you and my sisters and Maria and we'll hold each other up together. Fuck Alex, and John, and everyone else. We're your family, dude."

Herc felt his eyes mist a little. He smiled, emotions swarming him. He knew Peggy wouldn't lie, he knew that he was a brother to her, but he also knew that her sisters would always come first, always be saved. He'd always be the last choice. "I love you guys."

"We love you too," Eliza said with a bright smile, eyes soft.

"It's just..how I see it, we live out near the ocean and, overtime, the ocean creeps up on us, dark and menacing. Eventually the waters will be grey and rough and a hurricane will form. I don't know when, but it will."

"There's always a chance of a hurricane," Angelica said, "but if we live our whole lives in fear of that, we'll never get a chance to enjoy the sun and the water. We'll be too busy hiding behind closed doors, preparing for something that might never happen."

"I agree," Maria nodded. "Herc, you have to talk to them, okay?"

"I don't want to."

"You're being a child," Angelica said, slightly annoyed. "Call them."

Herc sighed, knowing it was meaningless to argue with her. He'd tried before and she'd won every single time. "Fine. Could you guys...step outside?"

Peggy nodded. "Alright. Call us in if you want us." She took Angelica's hand and pulled her from the room. Eliza and Maria reluctantly followed, casting worried looks over their shoulders.

Herc took a deep breath, preparing himself. He took out his phone, checking the time. 8:46. Laf should be awake by now. He pressed on the call button next to their contact. One ring. Two rings. Three rings.

"Hello?" Laf said, picking up their phone. They sounded tired, and not too happy to be talking to him.

Herc heaved a sigh of relief. At least they were okay. "Are you okay?"

"What? Oh, I'm fine. I'm so sorry I didn't call. A few things...ah, came up."

"Such as?" Herc asked.

They hesitated momentarily. "I'll tell you when I'm home. James and Thomas are still asleep so I'll be back in about 10 minutes."

Herc's heart twisted. Home. They had called Herc's apartment home. Not that hotel they had been living in. No. This, this was home. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I...maybe," they admitted.  
Herc felt his heart stop for a split second. "Lafayette, what happened?"

"I'll be home in 10," they repeated, hanging up.

"Guys," Herc called, setting the phone aside. The Schuyler's and Maria made their way back into the room. He knew they'd been standing outside the door.

"What happened?" Angelica asked, the big sister in her showing in the gentle voice and fierce eyes.

"Are you okay?" Eliza asked softly.

Herc nodded. "I'm fine. I don't know if they are, though. They sounded...off. Avoided the subject of whether or not they were okay. They said they'd explain when they got back home."

"When are they coming back?" Peggy questioned.

"10 minutes."

Maria glanced around. "We'd better go. Also, Liza, I'm going over to John’s to paint in an hour.”

"Thank you," Herc said softly. "Really."

"It was our pleasure," Eliza said with a soft smile. "Call us and tell us what happened."

Herc nodded. "Sure thing."

The door closed behind the four.

The little apartment was quiet.

Herc let out a pained sigh. Anxiety fluttered in his stomach, heavy and looming. _This could go horribly wrong,_ one part of his brain insisted.

_Or perfectly right,_ his heart challenged.

When Lafayette walked through the door at 9:02, Herc felt like he might throw up. He stood, closing the door behind them. "Laf," he breathed. "Sit down."

They didn't look well. They seemed more tired than the last time he had seen them. Laf smiled tightly and sat uncomfortably down on the sofa, avoiding eye contact. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Herc nodded, sitting a few feet away from them. "Are you okay?"

"'Okay' is relative."

"What happened last night?"

They hesitated. "Before I tell you, listen to me. I was safe. I wasn't going to do anything, okay?"

Herc felt his heart stop. "Alright. Continue." He voice wavered without his consent, and he half hoped it would be a window into his heart, so they could see how much he really did care.

"You know that night, about two or three years ago? You were still at med school…before you dropped…and Thomas called you, said he couldn't find me?"

"Yes." God, as if he would ever forget that night. And when Thomas called him again, hours later, and told him about that bridge...how could he forget? "Oh god, Laf."

"I went back there. I don't know why, but I just stood on that bridge. I didn't do anything. Thomas came to get me, he was frantic. He took me home and I stayed on their couch."

Herc almost reached out to take their hand but caught himself. "You aren't allowed to do that again," he breathed. "Do you know how terrifying it is to hear you say that?" They didn't answer, just stared at Herc's hand, unmoving on the sofa. "You have so many people who care about you. Thomas, Alex, John, James, me."

They flinched, the look in their face equivalent to someone shot between the ribs. "You don't care," they whispered. "Not enough to give me a chance."

"What?" Herc felt an inappropriate laugh bubble up in he chest. "Oh my god." Without a moments thought, he reached over and pulled Laf's face towards his own.

For a split second, they stared at each other, taking in the confusion on Laf's face, and the need in Herc's eyes, before he hesitantly but firmly pressed his lips to Laf's.

They were one in the same line, traveling together, infinitely intertwined. Laf pressed gently against him, through their lips poured bottled up passion and the passion Herc returned was the years of bottled up longing. 

The kiss was no longer hesitant but ravenous. Laf's nails dug into his back as they moved against each. Then, suddenly, they pulled back, frantic. "I can't," they whispered, voice breaking. "No."

"What?" Herc felt his heart shatter, felt the wall that was just coming down start to build itself back up. 

They ran their hands through their hair, breathing heavily. "Fuck, we shouldn't be have done that! I..." They shook their head, one thousand emotions all crammed onto their face. "Unless we committing this, I can't. Unless you can accept that I still do have feelings, no matter how small, for Alex, we can't do this."

Herc closed his eyes, gathering up everything, every bit of strength inside of him. "Kiss me," he said softly. It was a question and it was a command, an order and a plea. "Kiss me, because we can't play this cat and mouse game again, we can't make this more painful than it already is so, if you want us to work, please kiss me."

And they did.

It was hesitant, unsure, light and simple. Every brush of lips was like the wings of a butterfly, gentle, delicate. Their hands found his back, pulling him down on top of them against the couch frame, sending chills down his spine. Herc pulled back just enough for their noses to still be touching.

Their lashes brushed his face, eyes glowing with emotions and hunger, yet they seemed hesitant, waiting for him to make any more moves. They smiled slightly up at him, closing their eyes and, with one hand, pressing Herc's forehead to their own.

"We don't have to do anything we aren't ready for," he said softly, touching their face as he pulled back. "God, I needed this."

"So did I," they whispered.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting."

Laf tilted their head. "How long?"

"Since the day we met."

They laughed a little, sitting up. "That long, huh?"

"That long."

"Wow," they breathed. "We've wasted so much time, haven't we? By I thought...I thought you didn't want me because you thought I still liked Alex."

Herc but his lip, sensing that they were treading into sensitive territory. "I didn't want you to feel torn. I wanted you so fucking much but you liked Alex, I couldn't live knowing your heart wasn't mine, or that I compromised your heart."

  
"I can tell you one thing," Laf said with a half smile. "It will always be you. Alex can't hold a torch to this."

"Candle, Laf. He can't hold a candle to this," Herc corrected gently.

They laughed. "I've changed my mind, fuck you."

Herc kissed them again, quick and cruel, no time to savor it. "You sure about that?"

They sighed, smiling. Their eyes glowed a they looked at him. "It was always be you. We've known each other for so long. I think it was only a matter of time."

"I'm still not quite processing this," he said softly. "Was I dreaming?”

"I wish I knew,” they laughed, pinching themself. “Nope.”

Herc snorted, scratching his head. “Wow. Okay, so I guess we’re a thing?”

Laf shrugged, feeling excitement rise in them. “I guess so.”

_Oh, we’re everything._

 


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for suicidal discussions

Thomas picked at his sweater anxiously.

It had been two days since he had pulled Lafayette off that bridge. Despite them seeming well now, he knew what he needed to do. James agreed, offering to stay with Thomas after class to help him. Thomas had kissed him and declined, insisting that he would be fine on his own. Anxiety was mounting in his stomach as the end of the period drew nearer and nearer.

When the hell finally rang and students poured out of the classroom, Thomas stood, waiting until the last student left before closing the door. "Sir."

Washington, who was pulling out and arranging several pieces of paper, looked up at him. "Thomas? Is something wrong?"

"Can I talk to you, sir?"

Washington looked at him with slight concern. "Of course. Is everything alright?"

Tears threatened to choke him and he looked away. "I'm fine, sir, but…I'm sorry, it's not your burden to bear, but I feel like you are the man to come to about it.” He was regretting this already. _For Laf, you're doing this for Laf._

“Thomas, any burden my students bear is mine also.” His eyes sparkled with worry, forehead folded into lines.

“You care about Lafayette, don't you?”

The professor sighed, nodding. "I care about them as I care for all my students." _Or like how a father would care for his child_. "Are they okay?”

Here is was, the moment of truth. Thomas felt a tightness in his chest and forced the words out through the lump in his throat. “...Laf tried to kill themself two days ago."

Washington's eyes widened and he stumbled back, passing a hand over his eyes. The horror and shock on his face was shocking. "No!"

"Sir?" Thomas asked, alarmed. "Are you alright?"

The professor sunk into his chair, sighed heavily. "What happened?" he demanded.

"There's a bridge. You probably know about it. Jumping Man Bridge?" Washington nodded, face whitening. He knew the daughter of one of the jumping men, born to a widowed and young mother. "They've gone there once before. It was the most terrifying night of my life, honestly, and I made them swear they'd never go back. I called them Saturday night. James and I had had a fight about some stupid little thing," a lie, but this wasn't about him and James, "so I called them and they told me where they were-"

"They told you? Thomas, that doesn't sound like suicide," Washington said, obviously struggling to keep calm, to collect and rationalize the situation. He looked almost frightened.

"That's what they told me, but I don't trust them. I think the original intent was suicide but they changed their mind." He took out the piece of paper that Laf had dropped that night. "I'll read it." He felt tears sting his eyes.

"" _Dear Thomas, Alex, Herc, John, or whomever this may concern, if you are reading this, I'm probably dead. If I'm not, I have failed or changed my mind however, had I done either of those, I'd have destroyed with note. Yes, this is a suicide note. I'm sorry._ "" Thomas covered his mouth, letting loose a little sob. "Sorry," he apologized, "I've read this so many times but I can't keep it together."

"I can read it," Washington offered. His hand was shaking when he took the paper. He cleared his throat. "" _I'm sorry. Things have been hard for a long, long time now, and I'd like to let you know that this was not your fault, but rather my genetic predisposition to depression and elusive gender identity._

_'I've left my phone unlocked. You need to go through my photos. There are screenshots of messages I've been receiving for months now. Now, you may ask, why a bridge? Honestly, I don't know. I could not bring myself to hang and we don't own a gun. I didn't want to die on Alex and John's couch from pills, or alone in my home, and I don't fancy the waiting to bleed out if I slit my wrists. So, here we are, at a bridge, because who needs any sort of logic when you're about to die."_ Washington took a shuddering breath, looking away to wipe his eyes. The thought of the stoic, proud man crying made the hurt and unease in Thomas’ stomach skyrocket.

"" _I want a closed casket funeral. I want the Schuyler sisters, Maria, Alex, John, Hercules, Thomas, James, and perhaps even Professor Washington, in attendance. I do not want my parents. Send them a copy of this note. An address will not be hard to find online. Lastly, to my best friends in the entire world, hold on. John Laurens in particular, you need to be there for Alex and for Herc. I love you all so much. Thomas, I don't know where I'd be without you. You are my family. I love you. Alex, god, I did love you. Be happy, take a break. Breathe. I love you. John, keep yourself safe. Don't do anything harmful. Take care of Alex. I don't regret and have never regretted meeting you. I'm sorry for the pain I caused. I love you. Lastly, to Herc, I love you I love you I love you I love you so much. I love you differently that Thomas. I think I love you the same way you loved me. Be smart. Be safe. I'm sorry.""_

Thomas closed his eyes, tears dropped steadily down his face. "See?" None of it felt real. If he hadn't called exactly when he did...

Washington mutely handed the note back to him. "Thank you for coming to me with this. They need professional help, Thomas. You're one of my best students, I trust you know this."

"With all due respect, Sir, I appreciate that you're taking on a paternal role when it comes to Lafayette, but if you try and get them help ...it would be hell for them. They hate talking to people they don't know, don't trust. It would be useless," Thomas said softly. "Just be more stressful. The most we can do is to be there and just…just love them.” His voice cracked and another tear slipped out, soaking into his shirt.

"I see," Washington said. "I was the same way when I was younger. Anyways, they definitely intended to end their life but chose not to. Why?"

Thomas shrugged, wiping his eyes. "As much as I’d like to believe it was some huge epiphany that their life is not theirs alone but, in all honesty, it's probably because I called them and came to get them."

"Will they try this again?"

Thomas shrugged. "They've mended their bond with Hercules Mulligan, which, I believe was a large part of their feelings of worthlessness. I don't think I can guarantee anything but I can say that there is less of a chance now. At least, I'm hoping. It's not a one time deal, and I'm going to keep a close eye on them.”

"And those messages they got?" Washington asked.

"I'll email them to you, sir." Thomas sighed, looking away. "It feels like a bad dream. Please, don't bring this up. I fear that it would do more harm than good."

Washington nodded. "Of course. I understand. What do you have after this? I'll write you a pass."

"Professor Talmadge, sir. Thank you."

School passed agonizingly slowly, but at long last when the bell rang, Thomas found James and the two of them were able to catch up with Laf and their crew.  
"Hey," Thomas said, coming up behind them.

Laf grinned over at him. They looked better, but still tired and a little sad, but there was light in their eyes like Thomas hadn't seen in a long time. "Hi, Thomas, James."

Hamilton turned and glared at him. "Why are you here?"

James opened his mouth but Thomas shushed him. "I'm here to see Lafayette. Be civil for once in your life, will you?"

"Oh, because you're always so civil, aren't you?"

"Apparently more so than you."  
Hamilton practically sneered.

"Sure."

"Alex," John warned softly, reaching out to take his hand. Alex yanked it away. John looked away, eyes downcast.

James exchanged a worried and pitying look with Thomas, who took his hand and squeezed it tightly. "So," James said softly. "Laf, how are you?"

"I'm fine," Laf answered. "Thank you guys so much for letting me stay with you. I'm really sorry about that."

"It's no trouble," Thomas hurried to say. "I actually wanted to talk to you. Alone." He shot James an apologetic look.

James nodded, squeezing his hand. "It's no trouble, Thomas."

"Thank, Babe." Thomas kissed his cheek, ignoring the snort of disgust from Hamilton and the turned heads of several students. He smiled, gesturing out the doors. "Come on, Laf. Why don't we get some food?"

"Sounds great." Their tone was light but their eyes worried, shaded. Thomas doubted anyone else noticed that their voice was a hair off, their reactions tenser than normal.

The two of them walked in silence for a while, looking up and down the busy street for a place to eat. Suddenly Thomas stopped dead in his tracks.

"Thomas?" Laf asked, concerned. Their followed his gaze up to the street signs. "Oh..."

Jackson street. Thomas turned to look down the line of buildings. An alleyway. A sick feeling rose in his stomach and he turned, dry heaving into a bush. All around him were memories, memories of James screaming, of men masked in darkness, of a sharp pain in his neck and the thunk of his head hitting a wall. " _Thomas_!" James had screamed. " _Thomas_!"

_Who am I?_

_Who are you?_

"Thomas." Laf's gentle arms were around him, pulling him onto a bench perhaps five feet away. They were practically hugging him, stroking his face. "You're okay. You're okay."

"I'm okay," Thomas breathed, pressing his face into Laf's neck. They smelled like mint and velvet and some strange mix of perfume. He felt the tenseness in his chest start to ease up, reminding himself that whatever gaps were still in his memory about that night where for the best. "Sorry."

"It's understandable," they breathed. "This was the street, wasn't it?" He noticed they looked a little shaken.

Thomas nodded. "I need to call James. Can you-"

"On it." Laf held the phone for Thomas while he took shaking breaths, trying to pull himself together.

" _Thomas_?" James answered.

"Hi," Thomas whispered.

" _Are you okay_?" he asked, alarmed.

He closed his eyes. "Just needed to hear your voice."

_"What happened?"_

Thomas smiled slightly, taking the phone from Laf, squeezing their hand as he did so in a gentle reminder that he was okay.. "I'm fine. We just...we just passed Jackson. I can see the alley."

James was silent for a long moment. " _You remember?"_

"Bits and pieces. It scared me.”

_"Do you want me to come and get you_?" He sounded a little off, hesitant, lost.

Thomas shook his head. "We're fine. James, are you okay?"

_"I love you."_

"Are you avoiding the question?"

_"I'm...I'm alright."_

Thomas sighed, wishing he was with James. "I love you too. I'm going now, okay?"

" _Okay_."

"I love you."

James's voice was small when he repeated the words back. _"I love you."_

"Bye." Thomas hung up, pocketing his phone and standing up. Laf gazed at him gently. "What?"

They smiled. "You love him and it's adorable."

Thomas glanced away, embarrassed. "Shut up."

"I've known you for a while now and I've never seen you like this. Let's get out of here." They took Thomas's arm, marching them down until they turned on to another road. Thomas felt the anxiety seep out of his system.

"Sorry about that," he said with an awkward smile. “Just…being so close to where it happened…”

"It was the least I could do, considering."

Thomas hesitated. "About that...Laf, you lied to me."

"What?"

He took the folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "You dropped this. I read it. Laf..."

They took the paper, scanning it. "I'm sorry," they breathed. "I'm so sorry."

“No,” he said. “No, I'm sorry. I’m sorry for not recognizing the signs sooner, for not making sure you were okay.”

“You had so much going on. I'll never blame you.”

"Why'd you change your mind?"

Laf shrugged. "I don't know. I was ready to throw myself over the edge of that bridge. I was about to, but you called and it came flooding back to me. Being terrified on my first day in America, meeting you in a grocery store and speaking in French, meeting John and Alex, starting to fall for him, losing him, watching him being happy with John, falling in love with Herc. I don't know." They picked at their shirt, tugging it down. “I still think I would have…done it if you hadn't come.”

"You have to promise me," Thomas said softly, on the verge of tears, "promise me that you'll never do this again. Burn the note. I'm locking up pills, razors, knives. Laf, if you died I don't know what I would do."

Laf looked over at him. "Eventually you'd move on. Marry, start a family. I'll be a distant memory."

"I could never," Thomas whispered. "Not without you. And what about Herc?" They shrugged, lip quivering. Thomas pulled them into a hug, running a hand through their hair in a fluid and calming motion. "Shhh," he whispered. "Promise me."

"I can't promise, but I can try. Just don't…don't let me get locked up. Unless I'm manic, don't lock me up." They were silent for a long moment, dragging in deep breaths. "I love you."

"Just stay alive, and that will be enough. I love you too." Thomas released them. "On a different topic, what's up with Hamilton and Laurens? They seemed kinda off earlier."

Laf smiled, thankful for the change of topic. "I don't know, honestly. Alex's just been acting...different recently. I don't know."

"Like, are they okay?"

They tilted their head. "Why do you care? I don't want to be rude, but you and Hamilton hate each other."

"It's a fair question. I like John. We're very similar in terms of how we grew up, and he doesn't hate me. I figure, we're in it together when it comes to our fathers. Remember, I knew him when he was just a kid, maybe four years old. We were friends for a few years." There was more to it than that, but Laf didn't need to know.

Laf nodded. "I remember hearing about that. Honestly, I don't know what's up with them. Alex has been acting really weird lately."

Thomas nodded. "Oh, okay."

"I'm worried about them. Alex's been so stressed and secluded recently. John's been doing his best but Alex is pushing him away. There was one time in the library, it was almost midnight, Alex was studying. John tried to get him to come home, promising that he'd studied enough for the exam and Alex lashed out."

Thomas drew in a quick breath. He had never had a high opinion of Hamilton but this...this brought it to a new low. "Really?"

Laf nodded seriously. "John flinched back even through it was no where near where he actually was, and ended up coming home with me and staying there for the rest of the night. Alex knows better than that. I couldn't believe it."

"I've always hated Hamilton but I never imagined he'd do that," Thomas said softly. "Was John okay?"

Laf hesitated. "He was...shaken, to say the least. Told me that Alex had reminded him of Henry Laurens for a second. At about two in the morning, he had a nightmare and called for me. When I got him calmed down, he told me it had been about Alex. The two of them had been walking and Alex just turned into his father and tried to kill him, is the summary he gave me."

Thomas whistled softly. "Have you talked to either of them about it yet?"

"What would I say?"

He shrugged. "Hi, I noticed you guys have been fighting a bit more often and cause you're both my friends/ ex boyfriend, I wanted to know if you're okay?"

They snorted. "That would go over well."

"Just a suggestion," Thomas said with a smile. "Now that food we were talking about."

Laf laughed, starting to walk down the street. Thomas smiled, following them.

God, it was good to see them laugh.

 


	49. Chapter 49

There's nothing like early spring in the city.

The cold wind wrapped around budding trees and bushes. The air was soft and cold. Alexander couldn't appreciate the beauty of the new season, however. He had found an offering as an intern in a giant law firm, so he had taken the bus up to the city for a week to get interviewed for the opportunity. Only one day ago, he had kissed John goodbye and left. Now, with the interview drawing nearer and nearer, the stress was piling up. He was in a rush to gather everything he needed to get the job.

It was a three weeks and one day after Lafayette and Hercules had gotten together. Three weeks and two days since Laf had tried to kill themself. Everything had gone smoothly for most everyone since. They'd finally been able to all sit down and talk, take a break from constant stress, but not Alexander. Sure, they'd all begged him to just take a goddamn break, telling him he'd be fine without twenty pages of the essay for Washington, or studying all night for Talmadge. He knew he wouldn't be, that breaks were not an option. Failure would never be an option.

The air in the city was dense and hot with the smooth, sultry scent of trouble, and he was by himself, exhausted, alone. The looming buildings were suffocating, pressing down on him.

Alex trudged through the city. When was the last time he slept? One week? Maybe. He felt weak in a way rest could not obliterate. He was wide awake, stress pulling his eyes open every second of the day. God, if he could only take a break from stressing about this interview. He knew John would tell him to sleep, that this constant anxiety wasn't good for him.

He longed for John, longed for him every second of that day. He missed his freckles, his smile, his 1am painting extravaganzas, which always ended in a mess and colorful swearing. He missed being Laf, talking to them, having someone so similar. He missed Herc, constantly being there, mothering them all. It was nearly 5:40 at night when he ran into none other than Miss Maria Lewis.

"Alex?" she said, surprised. She looked winded, looking back over her shoulder and rubbing her hands together anxiously. "What are you doing here?"

"Maria?" Alex asked, recognizing her immediately from her smooth voice and curvaceous figure. The red of her jacket made her looked extraordinarily pretty, matching with deep red lipstick. “What's up? I have an interview in a few days."

She smiled, looking over her shoulder again. Her eyes were shadowed with worry. “I know you're probably busy, and I'm so sorry to bother you, but I don't know where to go, and I'm up here all alone. My ex boyfriend's here. We have to give our case at the courthouse upstate so I came up for the weekend. He's trying to find me. I think he's following me but I'm not sure."

"Need help? I can walk you to the hotel.”

She offered an kind smile, biting her lip. "You're too kind, Alex."

"Not at all," Alex said with a grin. Seeing a familiar face was calming, even when he didn't know her well. "I don't think I've eaten today. Care to join me?"

Maria hesitated. She'd much rather not. Every bit of this city brought back unwelcome memories. She forced a smile, deciding to try and act normal today. "Sure!" she said in a falsely bright voice. She hadn't missed the way his eyes had scanned her body, eating it up with his eyes.

Alex lead her to a cheap little restaurant. They were seated at a table for two within ten minutes. Maria scanned the menu, searching for the cheapest option. She had come here with Reynolds once before. He had ordered a burger and ordered her a salad, no dressing, and ice water. He had told her she was getting fat. She looked up, feeling Alex's eyes on her.

"I think I'll have the grilled chicken panini," he said, oblivious to her internal battle. "What about you?"

She shrugged. "Probably the veggie wrap." A harmless option, it seemed.

They ordered and their food arrived shortly. Alex dug in the second the plate was set down in front of him. Maria nibbled a little on the wrap, not really hungry. Everywhere she looked, someone looked like Reynolds, and a suffocating sense of fear filled her.  
The man across the room from them had his haircut, the man in front of them was about the same size, the man coming out of the bathroom had the same jacket, the man coming through the door...ah fuck. She shrunk back against the seat, hands clenching.

The man coming through the door was James.

"Alex," she whispered. "Alexander!"

He looked up, took a second to linger on her worried face, and turned to look at James. "That's him?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "Yeah. You're gonna have to help me out here."

"What do you-?"

Reynolds cut him off, smooth voice sliding over every surface of the restaurant, covering every wall. "Maria Reynolds," he said. "Pleasure to see you again."

"It's Maria Lewis," she corrected, trying to match his tone. "It's not fantastic to see you, if I'm being honest."

He raised his eyebrows, eyes shifting to Alex, who met them with the same fire, holding his glare. "Who's this?" Reynolds asked.

Maria straightened up. "My boyfriend." Alex jolted in shock. He broke eye contact to watch her face, which was screwed up in concentration. "Yeah," she continued. "My boyfriend. we started dating after you and I broke up. I was trying to avoid telling you but, well, here we are.”

Reynolds looked furious, dark eyes burning through her. "And how do I know you aren't lying? Prove it."

"How do we do that?" Alex asked, finding the courage to speak up. He liked to think that he wasn't scared of anyone, but the way this man's eyes burned through him, piercing and rotten, rubbed him the wrong way. "You will be blind to what you don't want to see."

"Kiss her then," Reynolds said. "Come outside and kiss her. If you two are truly together I'll be able to tell."

"You'll be able to tell?" Maria scoffed. "What kind of movie bullshit is this? You could never tell that I didn't love you when we kissed."

"Oh, I could," he sneered. "But you were a good kisser and I didn't want to give that up."

Alex stood, eyes blazing. "You little-"

Maria grabbed his hand to stop him, standing as well. Her eyes were pleading, desperate. "Come on," she said reluctantly. "Let's go outside."

His eyes widened as he realized what she meant. "Alright," he breathed. He left a twenty on the table and followed them out.

Reynolds lead them to a shaded, empty lot about five minutes from the restaurant. "Go," he said softly. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk.

Maria hesitated. She had to put on a good show. She had to, bit just for her sake but also for Alex. He nodded slightly, telling her this was alright with him. "Alright," she breathed.

Alex made the first move, wrapping an arm around her waist and moving his face close enough so that he could whisper and Reynolds wouldn't hear. "Eliza will understand."

Maria kissed him. She kissed him with all the passion and love she felt for Eliza, she kissed him as if she was kissing her and she felt his lips moving, their tongues dancing. This wasn't love, she knew. It was lust. She had seen the way Alex looked at her and, while she wasn't attracted to him, she certainly won't be opposed to being with him. The kiss slowed to a waltzing dance, becoming more and more intimate. Alex's hands were soft and gentle, his thumbs rubbing circles on her back. They broke apart.

Reynolds was staring at them, eyes shadowed. He looked…angry? Sad? Defeated? "He’ll leave you, you slut,” he spat. “Everyone does. Who could love a damaged whore like you?” Then he walked away.

Maria sighed, dropping her head. She felt dirty, soiled. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be," Alex said softly. "He was right about one thing. You're a fantastic kisser." He looked away, blushing.

Maria felt the familiar feeling of discomfort rise up in her gut. "I need vodka," she sighed. "Seriously."

"I know right," Alex replied. "God, I don't think I've slept for a week."

Maria smiled. She could still taste his lips on her own and tried to push it away. "I might be able to acquire some."

"Oh dear god," Alex said, smiling. "How?"

The little liquor store was about ten minutes away and they arrived at 6:20. Maria sighed. She hated doing this, using people, but she really needed to forget certain things. She had to do this and she knew someone who would be more than willing to get her what she needed.

There was a girl in that shop, a beautiful Muslim girl by the name of Dolley. Dolley had once dated James. She broke up with him after he tore her hijab off in a fit of rage and was overjoyed when Maria, who had maintained a connection with her, had told her of their court case and how Reynolds was loosing.

"Dolley!" Maria called, walking through the door.

The girl looked up. She really was rather beautiful. Tall, dark, velvet red lips and black eye makeup. "Well, if it isn't Miss Maria Lewis." She smiled, coming out from behind the checkout desk and meeting the other girl with an embrace. "What can I do for you?"

Maria smiled, feeling safe in the older girl's arms. She stepped back with reluctance. "Hey, Doll," she said, using the old nickname. "I need vodka. Or tequila. Doesn't matter."

"What's up?" Dolley asked, concerned. "Something happen?"

"Reynolds and I are having our case heard at the Court house. Today was...rough, I'm sure you understand." Not entirely untruthful.

Dolley furrowed her dark brows. "You're not twenty-one, right?"

"I'm twenty," Maria said, sticking out her chin. "Please. Dolley, I really need this."

"I don't like this but I've got what you need. On the house." Dolley reached under the desk, pulling out a rather large bottle of vodka. "Don't drink the entire thing yourself. There's enough in there for three grown men."

Maria smiled, tucking the bottle into her red jacket. "Thanks, Dolley. I owe you one."

"Get that jackass into prison and we're good," Dolley said with a wave of her hand. "Take care."

Maria left the little shop and proudly presented the bottle to Alex. "We can go back to my hotel and get hammered," she offered. "Sound good?"

"Amazing," Alex said, grinning.

They walked under a deep purple sky, not talking. Alex carried the alcohol while Maria lead them to the hotel. Reynolds had paid for her room and the hotel was grand. For once, there was absolutely no remorse for having someone else pay.

The traffic of the city had slowed down a little, and the once busy streets and packed sidewalks were quieter, calmer. A few cars drove past, blasting music. Once, a man on the corner whistled at her and Alex flipped him off, resuming his job as her fake boyfriend and taking her hand. She tensed but eventually leaned into the touch, allowing herself to be comforted.

It was 6:45 when they arrived in front of Maria's door. She scanned the key and let them in, immediately taking two glasses from the cabinet and setting them down. Alex uncapped the bottle, which was sweating. "To freedom," he said somberly, pouring some of the beverage in the cups.

"Raise a glass," Maria sighed, lifting hers. She took a large mouthful, relishing in the burn.

"When are you presenting your case?" Alex asked, already almost done with his glass. He reached for the bottle, but stopped, glancing over at her.

Maria shrugged, taking off her jacket. "A few days. I came early cause I wanted to check out the Arts Museum." She slid her glass over to Alex. He filled it up.

"Was it cool?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess." She took the glass and downed almost half of it. Her throat burned like hell itself was in it, and it triggered her gag reflex but she kept it down, needing to get drunk faster. Her body was staring to feel warm.

Alex stood up and stretched, not wanting to end up crashing on the couch. “Well, I should head back…”

She flushed, grabbing his arm as he stood. “Stay?”

Alex looked down at her, heat rising in his stomach. “Hey…”  
Maria smiled, red lips parting. “Hey. You shouldn't go yet. Reynolds will be heading back here soon, and I don't want him to attack you."

  
_I should say no to this, I need to get home_. Against his better judgment, he sat down and downed most of his second glass. He closed his eyes, leaning back. "Fuck," he breathed. "It's not working fast enough."

"Give it time," she soothed. "You'll be miserable if you drink much more."

"Not soon enough," he groaned, reaching for the bottle and pouring another glass. Maria considered telling him that there was enough in he bottle to get three men hammered. She shrugged, taking the bottle from him and pouring her own. He'd probably already figured.

Over the course of the next 15 minutes, Maria felt her brain getting fuzzier and fuzzier. She was aware of her slurring speech and Alex's unfocused eyes that remained fixed on her. Her hands were clumsy and she knocked over Alex's empty glass while reaching for her own. "Shit," she slurred, blinking, trying to focus. "I'm drunk."

"Same," Alex said, his words lilting weirdly. "At least we are...are...aware." He squeezed her hand. When had he taken it? She couldn't remember.

Suddenly they were kissing. Who had initiated it? Her? Him? Both? Her hands were in her hair and she was suddenly pressed against a wall, throughly enjoying the sensations it gave her. She kissed back, kissed full of lust and starvation. His lips told the same story. Sex-starved and hungry.

_Lord, show me how to say no to this_.

"Alex," she moaned as he kissed down her neck. "Alex..."

_I don't know how to say no to this_.

The world around them was bathed red, red with City light streaming through red curtains, red with lust. She was pressed into soft sheets, sheets stained red with light. Her red dress was gone, as was Alex's shirt, and they were kissing and they were kissing and they were kissing and...

_My god, I am helpless, and my body’s screaming “oh hell yes”._

The rest of the night was a haze of pleasure and lust, ravenous bodies and tongues, eager to eat each other up. Looking back on that night, Maria could pull two words: "starved" and "red."

_Show me how to say no to this…_

She was staving for intimacy she could have with Eliza. Couldn't have because she loved her so much and couldn't bear being hurt by her. Alex, she couldn't love. It was lust, pure and simple, she knew. It wouldn't break her heart to have him hurt her. In her drunken mind, this all made perfect sense.

_I don't know how to say no to this…_

They were one being, ravenous and hard. There were no soft edges, nothing to soften the blows of utter passion, no gentle whispers and soft kisses, just lust bites and fingernail marks raked across backs, necks, dark love marks on bare necks and chest.

_I don't say no to this._

The next morning, she woke up alone.

_I didn't say no to this._

She woke up naked, wrapped in sheets. She sat up quickly, immediately regretting the action when her head spun so fast it felt like she might throw up. She closed her eyes. What had happened last night? "Fuck!" she whispered, memories coming crashing down. Her mouth tasted bitter. She had cheated on Eliza, she had cheated on Eliza, she had cheated on Eliza.

"Maria?" Alex came out of the bathroom. His hair was mussed, eyes bloodshot and dark. He was dressed in an old tee shirt and sweatpants a size too large. They must have been John's. She felt like she was going to puke.

"What did we do?" she whispered, pushing herself out to bed. She stumbled as her head spun, leaning on the wall for support.

There was a tinge of guilt in Alex's eyes, in his slumped posture. "Maria-"

"What did we do?!”

“Maria…”

There was a long moment of silence. "I cheated on her," Maria whispered. "Alex, what does that make me?"

Alex shrugged, running his hand over his unshaven face. "I don't know."

"I cheated on her! Oh my god." She sat down, burying her face in her hands. "Oh fuck. Oh my god."

The bed dipped as Alex sat down beside her. "Breathe, Maria." His tone was soothing, practiced. It only made her feel more sick.

"Do you say that to him?" Maria whispered, looking up. Alex sighed, casting his eyes downward.

"I do, in fact. When he has nightmares."

"Do you feel bad at all?"

His eyes flashed angrily. "Oh course! What kind of person do you think I am?" She flinched. He sighed, relaxing his posture. "Sorry".

"How could we do this?" she whispered. "We can't keep this a secret."

_...and I don't say-_

"No," Alex said softly, taking her hand. "Maria, nobody needs to know."

 

 


	50. Chapter 50

Alex came back very late Sunday night. He felt slightly sick as he unlocked the door to his and John's apartment. How could he face him? How could he sleep next to him, tell him he loved him after what he had done? Alex swallowed.

He and Maria had had sex one more time before Alex had to leave. They had agreed to keep it a secret from everyone and to never speak of it again. He knew it wouldn't last. He knew he'd soon be ready to devour her body again and she would be up for it. He sighed, pushing the thought of Maria away and stepping into the hallway.

The house was quiet. Alex carefully slipped his jacket and shoes off. He made his way to their room and changed as quietly as he could, trying not to wake John.

"Babe?" John murmured in a voice hoarse with sleep. "Come to sleep."

"Shhh," Alex whispered, slipping on his sweatpants. "I'm here. I need to plug my phone in."

"Come to sleep," John repeated sleepily.

"I'm coming, Love," Alex soothed, feeling for the bedside charger. "Shhh."

John rolled over. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"I love you."

Alex's heart twisted. "I love you too."

He carefully crawled into bed, where he was greeted with John promptly wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close to his chest and falling back asleep.  
Alex lay there for a long time, stroking John's face. He looked exhausted, even in sleep, and Alex wondered if he had slept at all over the weekend. Something told him he hadn't. "I'm sorry," Alex whispered, kissing his nose. "Never again." _I'll never leave you alone like this again. I won't cheat on you ever again._

Easier said than done.

Alex woke up at 3:46 to an empty bed. His heart stopped and he sat up, looking around. For a moment, he sat there in the dark, confused and disoriented. He swung himself out of the bed quietly and went into the living room. As he had thought, John was sitting on the couch, a blanket wrapped around him. He wasn't moving, simply staring at the wall.

"John?" Alex whispered. "What's up?"

John jolted out of his stupor, blinking rapidly. He looked over at Alex, eyes dark and heavy. "My dad called me."

Alex sighed, rushing over to him and sitting beside him. "Love..." the name seemed wrong on his tongue, as if Alex didn't deserve to say it.

"Martha had a seizure."

Everything stopped.

Martha. Sweet, beautiful little Martha, who loved and accepted her brothers more than their father ever would.

Alex tried to speak past the lump in his throat. "What happened?"

"My dad says it was the combined stress of school and future as well as mild depression and lack of self care. Basically, she was too stressed and wasn't eating or drinking or sleeping th enough and her body just...." he took a deep breath, trying to gather himself, "her body couldn't take it."

"Is she...?" He couldn't say it.

John shook his head. "She's alive. Critical. Mark's been hysterical. No one knows if she'll be okay. God, if I had just been there…” His face crumpled, the unwhelming pain peeking through.

Alex wrapped his arms around John, pulling him to his chest. Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes and he wasn't sure if it was from sorrow or the pain of watching John suffer. "John, I'm so sorry. You couldn't have done anything.”

"I just…She never had a strong heart either, there was a genetic component to it. She got the worst of it, Mark’s got a good one, and so do I, but Martha… They're worried about her heart now. It could give out, God, she's still so young. I have to fly out," John whispered. "My dad paid for my ticket. I leave tomorrow. He won't let you come."

Alex kissed the top of his head. "Call me every chance you get. I wish I could be there for you. What time did you find out?" The words felt fake and sour.

"3:25ish," John said in a tiny voice. "I didn't want to wake you. You got home so late."

Guilt rose in his stomach. "I love you," he whispered, as if the words would erase what had been done. "You should have told me."

"I would have. Just not then. I love you too."

"Do you think you can sleep?" Alex asked softly.

John shrugged. Alex could feel his shoulder moving against his chest. "I don't know."

"Did you sleep while I was gone?"  
He was silent for a moment. "I got maybe three hours. Kept having nightmares."

"Sleep, Love," Alex whispered. "You can't do anything right now and you'll be useless if you're exhausted tomorrow. What time are you leaving?"

"Noon."

"Sleep. I'll pack in the morning. You really need rest. How long are you staying?"

John looked up at him with dark, tired eyes. "I don't know. Five days? I love you."

Alex kissed him softly, letting their noses touch, letting him know it was alright. "Got it. Sleep, Love. I love you too." For some reason he was picturing Maria. He shook the image of her away and concentrated on sleeping, holding John- his boyfriend, he reminded himself- to his chest and stroking his hair.

It was 4:06 when he finally fell asleep.

He slept until about 8:50. Slept peacefully and soundly with John tucked against his chest. He stayed there until about 9:13 before carefully shifting John off his body and arranging him on the sofa. He hesitated there for a second, pressing a slow kiss to his forehead. "I love you," he breathed, before standing and going to the fridge. He thought for a moment before taking out the eggs.

As he cooked, Alex reflected on the past days. He debated on whether or not having Maria over while John was gone would be a good idea. His moral and heart screamed, " _no! How could you even think that?_ " but his lust and need screamed even louder, " _please! We need this_!" He shoved both feelings aside and concentrated on the eggs.

At 9:30, he finished his own breakfast, leaving John's out for him, and went to pack. He opened John's drawers, fishing out several pairs of socks and underwear when his hand brushed something. Alex hesitated, groping at the object. It felt like paper. Alex took it out.

The paper was thick, old, yellowing at the edges. It felt intrusive, and Alex felt guilty as he opened it. It was a photograph, the date and location written in the bottom left hand corner. 1984- Bahamas.

In the photo, a happy young couple stood at an altar, obviously being wedded. Alex covered his mouth, realizing this must have been taken the day John's parents had been married, back when Henry was kind. The woman- his mother- was radiant. Even on colorless paper, she glowed. Her smile lit up the sky. She was wearing a long gown, embroidered with tiny flowers. Her hair, curly as John's, was fixed in a stylish updo.

Henry looked fixated. His eyes were glued to her face, a small smile curving his lip. He was wearing a simple tux with a spring of flowers in his pocket. Alex felt a rush of pity and hatred for the man. He had lost the love of his life, and Alex felt bad for him, but at the same time nothing could ever erase what he had done to John all those years. He folded the picture back up and slipped it back in the bottom of the drawer.

The Laurens children had gone through so much, Alex thought as he started packing. It was absolutely awful. John had been abused since he was eight, at least as far as Alex had been told, and disowned for being gay. Martha, he figured, must feel the need to fit all her fathers standards. Physical and intellectual, and that had lead her to the hospital. Lastly Mark, stuck in a body he hated. Alex couldn't begin imagine what that must be like. Mark was strong, strong enough to see his brother get kicked out and still manage to stay in that house, to continue a feminine facade. None of them deserved this.

Alex folded a few more pairs of shorts and get them in the bag. He hesitated, wondering what he could do to help John get through these upcoming days. It struck him suddenly. Alex crossed to his side of the bed, pulling out his notebook from the bedside drawer and opening it. There was letter, written back when he and John went to see Henry for Christmas on his phone. One night, he had put it into paper.

_I have told you, and I told you truly that I love you too much-You engross my thoughts too entirely to allow me to think of any thing else-You not only employ my mind all day; but you intrude upon my sleep-I meet you in every dream-and when I wake I cannot close my eyes again for ruminating on your perfection and beauty. Allow me to explain._   
_Your freckles rival the brightest and most beautiful stars. You are fluid, capturing the light and the eyes of everyone. When you were created, a mistake was made. If there is a highest power, they accidentally tangled you in starlight, pulling constellations from the sky and placing them in a scattered wind across your body.  
Your looks cannot begin to rival you as a whole. Your body sings with grace and kindness. Kindness enough to accept an offer and bring light to a poor orphan's life, to brighten the world every time you smile. My Dearest Laurens, I am utterly and truthfully the most in love I have ever been and if you spent the rest of time by my side, I would never utter a word of complaint. I am yours._

Faintly, Alex wondered if he could even write these after what he had done, much less allow John to read them. He shrugged off the doubt. If it comforted John, so be it. He folded the letter, scribbling on the back, " _stay strong, John, and don't forget how much I love you._ "

He folded it, putting it on the very top of everything and zipping it up. It was 10:04.

Alex walked back into the living room, pleased to see that John was stirring. He went to kneel in front of him, gently stroking his cheeks. "Hey, Love," he murmured. "You have to get up now."

John yawned, pressing his face into Alex's hand. "Only if I have to."

"You have a plane to catch," Alex whispered. "I've packed for you and made breakfast."

"What would I do without you?" John blinked up at him.

Alex's heart melted. He chose to ignore the question. "Come on."

John sat up, smiling slightly, and followed him, catching up and wrapping his arms around Alex's waist, kissing his neck. His lips were chapped, tiny stubble tickling his skin. He thanked god that the love bites had faded. Maria's lips had been soft and full, gentle on his neck.

"I'm going to miss you so much," he whispered.

Alex leaned backwards, stroking his hair. "I wish I could come."

John sighed and stepped back, beelining towards the food. "I'm starving."

"Did you eat while I was gone?"  
He shrugged. "Yeah. A little." He shoved a fork full in his mouth.

"How much is a little?"

John smiled wanly, answering in between bites. "A sandwich, two bowls of cereal?"

Alex sighed. "Love, that isn't nearly enough."

"I was busy with homework and Charles Lee."

"Did something happen with you two?"

John shrugged. "We got into a fight off campus. About me pushing him down the stairs."

Alex looked concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"John," Alex said disbelievingly.

"Alex," John said in the same tone. "I'm fine." He stood to go put his near empty plate in the sink.

Alex sighed. "I'm worried about you."

"Why?" he asked, puzzled.

"Martha. John, Love, you've been through so much. I'm scared that is something happens to her or with your father, it'll push you over the edge." He took John's hand.

John furrowed his brow. "You think I'll kill myself if she dies or my dad beats me."

"I didn't say that," Alex breathed.

"You might as well have," John answered, a frost creeping into his voice. "Martha will be fine. As for my dad, he's been like this since I was eight. Once more won't do anything."

Alex looked away down at his watch. 10:23. "I love you," he said softly. "Call me when you get there. Call me every night before nine or I'll call you. Be safe. You need to get going."

"I love you too," John breathed, leaning in for a deep, slow kiss. "I love you."

Alex smiled against his lips. "Call me," he repeated, pulling back. "I'll get your bag."

It was 10:30 when the taxi came and drove John away. It was 10:28 when they kissed for the last time in a week, a goodbye kiss, soft and needy.

It was only 10:34, four minutes after John left, when Alex sent a quick text to Maria.

Alex: home alone for a few days

Miss Lewis: be there @ 4:30

 


	51. Chapter 51

It was 5:03pm. 

John was exhausted already as he walked through the airport. He took out his phone, pressing on Alex's number. God, he missed him already.

One ring. Two rings. Three. The call went to voicemail. John hung up, puzzled. Alex never ignored his calls.

Ah well, he thought, trying again. There must be a reason.

This time he picked up on the first ring, sounding little winded. " _Hey, Love. Sorry about that. I was writing."_

John smiled. "Hey, it's okay. I miss you."

_"I miss you too. Was the flight okay?"_

"Everything went fine, Babe. How are you?"

Something fell in the background and Alex cursed. " _Stupid book,_ " he muttered. _"Sorry, Love. I'm fine. Missing you though."_

John looked out the window, seeing a man standing and holding a sign with his name on it. "I love you, Alex. I've got to go."

" _Call me when you can. Keep me updated. Love you."_

John smiled, hanging up. He hauled his bag over his shoulder and trudged through the swarm of people to the car. "I'm John Laurens," he said to the man. "I assume my father sent you."

The man nodded. "I'm to take you directly to the hospital."

John went pale, feeling his heart stutter. "Has something happened? Is my sister alright?"

"I'm not at liberty to disclose that information to you. Get in, sir."

He shook his head. "Call me John," he replied, ducking into the car and pulling his duffle on top of him. "You are?"

The man closed the door, walking around at getting in the drivers side. "Mr. Culper. Jackson Culper." He angled the mirror back and slowly navigated the car out of the parking lot.

"Mr. Culper," John tried, "please, what's happening with my sister? Is she alright?"

The man shook his head. "John, I'm sorry. I'd tell you if I could. Your father has forbidden me from speaking of it. Nobody but the family knows."

"So you don't know?" he asked, confused.

Culper shook his head. "No, I know. Senator Laurens has, however, informed me that you are to be treated as a stranger. He disowned you and thus, you are no longer family."

John felt frost creep over his body. He released a deep breath, trying to manage the anger and unfairness he felt. Unconsciously, his hand inched out before he realized Alex wasn't there.

He was alone. 

Culper cleared his throat. "John, are you alright?"

John gave a tight lipped smile, heaving in a steadying breath. "I'm fine."

It was 6:12 when they got to the hospital. Culper said he had been ordered to take John's bag back to the Laurens Residence and John would be riding home with his father and Mark. John thanked him and got out, rushing towards the hospital.

As he entered the waiting room, he pulled out his phone, calling Alex. This time, he picked up on the second ring. " _John_?" he asked. " _You okay?_ "

John felt tears prick his eyes. "I'm in the waiting room. Alex, I'm...I'm so scared. My siblings...they're all I have of my family. If I loose Martha..."

Alex let out a sad sigh. " _Love_ ," he soothed. " _Don't keep up your facade. You don't have to pretend to be strong for your dad, or for Mark. It's okay to cry, to need to break. You just have to be safe, okay? You just need to do what's safest for you. Don't throw yourself under a train for your father, don't hurt yourself to please him."_

John swallowed. "I love you so much, Alex, but I...I can't promise anything."

Alex's voice was soft, understanding. " _I know, Love, but try. Try for me, okay? For Mark and Martha."_

John felt like he might break down right there, thinking of his siblings. "I'll try. God, I miss you."

" _I know,_ " Alex soothed. " _I want to hold you. I'm so sorry I can't be there. Listen, I've got to go. Call me whenever you can. I'll make time to answer, even if it's only for a minute."_

"Okay. I love you."

" _Be safe. I love you too_." He hung up. 

John closed his eyes, replaying Alex's words in his head. He knew he had to be strong, he knew that what his father would demand of him would not come without cost. A cost he knew he must pay to be able to see his siblings again.

"John Laurens?" a small woman called.

John stood up, unconsciously shrinking in on himself when his father appeared behind her. "Hello," he said softly, averting his eyes.

"Jack," his father said, gesturing for him to follow him. The small woman shot a worried look at John as he followed weakly behind him.

"Father," he breathed. "Is Martha..."

Henry turned around, stopping in his tracks. John was taken aback at how tired he looked. His face was unshaven and dark bags were formed under tired eyes. "She's been stabilized. Mary's with her."

John felt his knees go weak. "Oh, thank God." He leaned against a wall. "What exactly happened?"

Henry started walking again, hands in fists behind his back. John eyes them warily. "We got a call from the school saying she had collapsed and they had called an ambulance. The doctors said she hadn't been eating or drinking enough and with the added weight of school and grades, her body gave out. It effected her heart too, but you should know that's something genetic too probably. You of all people."

John closed his eyes, sighing. He and Henry both knew where the genetics came from, they both knew what that last sentence meant. "Oh."

Henry stopped in front of a door, gesturing for John to enter. "We're here. I need to go fill out some paperwork." He turned and left, footsteps fading into nothingness.

John opened the door. "Mark?" he said, keeping his voice down. Before he even had time to process anything, his brother collided with him, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"John," he breathed, voice shaking. "Dad said you wouldn't be coming." He wrapped his arms tighter around his neck, burying his face in John's shoulder.

John rubbed his back, pausing for a second as he felt the odd lumps under Mark's shirt. He pulled back. "Of course I came," he said softly. "Always, for you two."

Mark smiled. He looked terrible. There were dark bags under his eyes, and his lips were cracked and peeling from being nervously gnawed on. He looked miserable in a black jacket and white tee shirt. "I missed you," he said softly.

"I missed you too," John replied. His eyes fell behind him, on Martha. "Oh God."

Martha, usually so bright and colorful, was pale in the hospital bed. She was still, still as stone, and the heart monitor kept up a steady beat, the only sign she wasn't...

John walked past Mark, dropping to his knees beside her bed. He touched her hand. Cold, cold as ice. "Oh God," he whispered again.

Mark wrapped an arm around him. "I know," he said softly. "I know."

John felt tears pooling in his eyes and heaved a calming breath. "I couldn't believe it when I heard."

"When did you hear?"

"Yesterday night. Or early, early this morning. Alex wanted to come with." John let Mark lean his head on his shoulder.

"How's Alex?"

John smiled down at him. "He's been busy. But he's fine."

Mark was silent for a moment. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

He shook his head. "No. You don't understand. I'm...I'm alone here. Martha helps but...I mean, you know what it feels like to not be...normal."

John sighed, leaning his head against Mark's. "I guess I do."  
A nurse entered the room and Mark stood up, wincing slightly. His hand went to his ribs and John felt his blood run cold. He also stood.

"Nurse Greene," the man said. "I'm just here to check her vitals. If you would step outside."

John nodded. "Of course." He took Mark's arm and pulled him out. Once the door had closed, he turned towards his brother. "You okay?"

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?" Mark asked, eyes darting side to side.

John sighed. "Don't lie to me. Was it dad?"

"No!" he exclaimed, eyes widening. "No. He wouldn't dare hit his...daughters."

John narrowed his eyes. Mark wasn't lying. "I saw you wince. Your ribs?"

"They're sore."

John thought back to the odd lumps he felt when they had hugged and it hit him with the shock of cold water. "Tell me its not bandages," he begged, running a hand through his hair.

Mark looked down at his feet, giving John all the answers he needed.

"Mark!" he hissed, keeping his voice down. "That's so fucking dangerous!"

Mark glared at him. "Oh sorry. I'd forgotten that I have just fucking access to safe binders. I was desperate!"

John stepped back, lowering his head. "Sorry...I'm just...god, I'm so worried. About everything. When I get home, I'll send you one. A proper one. You just need to call me about the size. Don't use bandages anymore."

"You'd do that?"

John squeezed his arm. "Of course."

The door swung open and the nurse stepped out. "Everything is in perfect condition," Greene said with a smile. "She's on a path to recovery."

Mark let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you so much. It's fantastic to hear that."

"Thank God," John breathed as the nurse walked away. "Want to go back in?"

Mark nodded, stepping into the room. "Dad opens all my mail," he said softly, bringing the conversation back. "How do you plan on avoiding him finding it?"

John thought for a long moment, contemplating how to best smuggle a binder. "I'll send you a dress and I'll have my friend sew it loosely into the bodice. All you'll have to do is rip the seams and it will be out."

Mark smiled, pulling John down into a hug. "I love you, bro."

John laughed. "Love you too, bitch. Hey, over the summer you should come visit us. I think you and Lafayette would get on pretty well."

Mark pulled away as Henry Laurens entered the room. His eyes were shadowed. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, sir," John said.

Henry nodded. "Good. I have to make a call." He left again.  
Mark clenched his fists. "Can't even fucking stay with her," he snarled. John squeezed his arm. "Anyways, who's Lafayette?"

John blinked. "Oh! They're from France. Brilliant person, honestly, but a little weird at times."

"They?" Mark asked, intrigued. "They're non binary?"

John grinned, nodding. "You know what that is?"

"Duh," Mark snorted. "I do my research, Jacky."

John laughed quietly. "You've always been the smartest." His smile faded slightly. "I need to call Alex."

"Of course," Mark said softly. "Go ahead."

John took out his phone, walking out into the hall.

" _John_?" Alex said, picking up.

He smiled into the phone, sighing. "Hi. She's going to be fine,” he whispered, smiling.

" _Everything’s alright?_ "

"Yeah. Have you eaten?"

Alex was silent, thinking, for a moment. " _Yeah. A little_."

John chucked. "We have like twenty microwaveable meals in the fridge. Go eat those."

" _You're too good."_

"I love you."

" _Love you too_ ," Alex said. His voice sounded...off. Just a little emptier, a little less Alex. John decided not to question it.

It was probably nothing anyways.

 


	52. Chapter 52

"Hercules."

"Laf?" Herc turned around, furrowing his eyebrows at the remorseful yet shadowed look on Laf's face. "Hey, you okay?"

"Herc." Their voice cracked a little. "Herc. This...this isn't going to work."

His stomach dropped. His heart stopped beating, frozen in his chest. "What? Are you...are you breaking up with me?"

"I'm sorry," Laf said. "I truly am. This just isn't working."

"Why?" he whispered, feeling a sick feeling rise in his throat. "Laf, I'll do anything..." Rip down the stars, carve the moon, all they would have to do is give him a task and he'd do it.

"It's not..." Laf blew out a heavy breath. "It's not like that. I just...I don't like you anymore. In fact, I'm sure I ever did."

Herc felt his knees go weak. "But...you said..." He couldn't find the words, couldn't speak without choking on tears. After so long, so many years of waiting, he'd gotten his taste of happiness ripped away from him.

"I know," they said softly. "I know what I said. I just needed you to distract me from Alex. I still love him, not you. Did you really think I did?"

"I had hoped," Herc breathed, feeling something inside of him shatter. "Lord, I had hoped."

"You were wrong." Their beautiful face turned hard and stony. "You honestly thought someone like me could love someone like you? A Marquis love a failing tailor?"

Herc's knees went out and he was kneeling on the floor, pushing himself up with his hands. "No," he whispered, shaking. "No. You...is this a nightmare?"

"Not at all," Lafayette sneered, red lips parting to reveal perfect teeth. "You just aren't good enough. You'll never be good enough. Why else would you drop out of med school? I lied to our friends about taking medical classes because I didn't want to admit my housemate was a drop out. You were never good enough."

_Never good enough._

The long repressed insecurity wrapped like tendrils around Herc's mind, suffocating. A little voice that had been dormant for years woke again.

_You'll never be good enough.  
_

_Everyone leaves you.  
_

_Why do you think Alex and John don't hang out with you often?  
_

_Why else did your design not reach the runway?  
_

_You aren’t good enough.  
_

_You'll never be good enough.  
_

_Not good enough for your friends.  
_

_Not good enough for Laf.  
_

_Wake up and smell the fucking roses._

_Wake up._

"Wake up."

The voice was soft, like a command or plea. Herc couldn't tell. There were warm hands on his arm, shaking him. Herc forced his eyes open, seeing Lafayette's worried face gazing down at him.

_You aren't good enough._

"Laf..." he breathed. 

"You started shaking," they explained softly, "and crying. I didn't know what to do." Their hand brushed his face, stroking away tears.

Herc could do nothing but stare. Here they were, sitting above him, eyes dark and concerned. Concerned for him.

_Never be good enough._

"Are you okay?" They settled down next to him, noses touching. Their hand was still on his cheek, warm and soft.

"I don't know," Herc managed to croak out. "I don't know."

"What happened?" they asked.

Herc shrugged, unsure of how to voice his nightmare. "It wasn't too bad."

"It was bad enough. You can tell me anything. You know this."  
He was silent for a moment, heart racing. Tears streaked down his face. "Am I enough?" he breathed in barely a whisper.

They furrowed their brow. "I'm confused."

"Am I good enough?"

_Never good enough._

"Oh, Hercules..." Laf whispered, kissing his nose. "Mon amour, You're so much more than I could ever ask for. Why would you even ask that?"

A tear tricked sideways down his cheek. "I was wondering," he whispered. "You broke up with me 'cause I wasn't good enough. You said you didn't love me, that you never have. You berated me for dropping out of med school." He didn't need to add "in my dream", they already knew.

They wrapped strong, firm arms around him without hesitation, pulling him close to their chest and kissing the top of his head. "You will always be enough," they assured. "Mon cher, breathe. I saw you in med school. You were miserable. Your art is your calling, your passion, and you're so good at it, mon amour.”

He heaved in a shaky breath. "Thank you, Laf." They didn't say "I love you." Not yet. It was some deep seated fear both of them had, a fear built from past relationships, that once you open your heart in that way, the person will leave you.

"You're welcome." 

_Good enough._

Laf tucked his head under their chin, providing every support he needed with their body. "Never worry about that," they breathed. "Never. You will always be enough."

"Always?"

"Always and forever." Their hand stroked his back, rubbing calming circles into the skin. "Sleep, mon cher. It's still early."

Herc felt his eyes dropping without his consent. "What time is it?"

"2:45," they said. 

"I'm sorry I woke you up."

"Shhh." Their lips trailed soft kisses across his forehead, sprinkled like stars across his skin. Feeling safe and wanted, he drifted off into a peaceful sleep, held tightly in their arms.

The morning came with sudden wind and heavy rain, washing the color out of the world around them. The sky was a deep grey, the streets and sidewalks bathed in cold water. Occasionally a crack of thunder split the air. When Herc woke up to the heavy pitter patter of the rain, Lafayette was asleep in his arms, head on his shoulder. Their arm was thrown around his waist, fingers curled where his shirt had risen up.

They looked at peace. The dark circles under their eyes had faded and, even in sleep, they seemed happier. Their skin seemed to glow in the dim light, and their hair was down, spread around their face like a halo. Herc pressed a soft kiss to their cheek, murmuring into their soft skin, "time to wake up."

They groaned softly, shifting to their face was pressed into Herc's neck. "No."

He laughed softly, bringing up a hand to caress their cheek. "Come on," he said. "I think school might be canceled. Probably a storm warning, and with what happened last time... Wanna go out?"

"No," Laf yawned. "Want to sleep." With a look of regret, they shifted to look up at Herc and...oh.

Dark, sleepy eyes shadowed with long, thick lashes gazed, blinking, up at him. Soft lips curved into a smile and parted to reveal perfect, white teeth. Their skin was rosy from sleep. They blinked rapidly, trying to get sleep from their eyes. 

"Hi," Herc whispered, feeling breathless. "Hi."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" they yawned.

Herc smiled fondly. "You're just so...unbelievably gorgeous."

"Is that all?" they said, nudging him softly. Herc's smile faded slightly. "I'm joking!" they laughed, shoving him. 

"Oh!" Herc said, face spitting into a wide smile.

"Kiss me, you fucking moron." Laf pulled him down and ran a hand down his face, lingering on his lips for a considerable time.

Herc obliged, gently kissing them. His hands curled in their hair, thumbs stroking their cheeks. "Why do I even stay with you?" he asked, smiling against their lips.

Laf laughed. "Cause the sex is great?"

Herc smiled, pulling back a little. "That and you're amazing."

"You're amazing too." Faintly, thunder clapped, and Laf's eyes darkened. "I should check on Alex. You know how he gets with storms."

Herc nodded, blankets falling away as he sat up. "Go ahead."

There was something a little off in his voice. Laf stared at him.  
"You know I don't have feelings for him anymore, right?" they asked.

"I know," Herc said softly, choosing to believe it. "It's just, when you have feelings for someone, it's hard to get over them. I know that. Hell, I tried to for around six years."

Laf leaned forward, kissing the tip of his nose. "Don't worry," they said with a smile. They reached towards the bedside table, picking up their phone and calling Alex.

" _Hi_ ," Alex said. He sounded tired, stressed.

"Hey, you okay?" Laf asked. 

A beat. _"I'm alright."_

"I know about your thing with storms. You can come over, if you want," Laf offered.

_"I appreciate it, but I'm fine,"_ he insisted. Thunder cracked in the distance and Alex drew in a deep breath. "Bye." Alex sighed, hanging up and turning back towards the bed, where Maria sat, fully clothed.

"Everything alright?" she asked.

Alex shook his head. "No."  
"Anything I can do?" she offered.

He smiled deviously, walking over to her and tilting her chin up with his hand. "I need distraction."

Her eyes were wary for a moment before she reached up, running a hand down his chest. "I can provide." She lay back, pulling him down on top of her.

One million words apart, John Laurens was sitting on Mark's bed, face flushed and eyes sparkling. In his hands, he held a letter. A letter declaring love and loyalty. He handed it over to his brother, smiling like an idiot.  
Mark scanned it. "He put this in your luggage?" he asked, smiling slightly.

"Yeah."

Mark slapped him softly. "You guys are fucking disgusting. I hate it."

John laughed. "Jealous much?"

"Shut up!" His smile faded. "Man, I don't want you to get hurt. You love him so much."

John tilted his head, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Mark handed the letter back to him. "Be careful with this one, John. He will do what it takes to survive."

"I know," John said softly. "I have faith in him. He'll be loyal."  
  
_Red_.

Kiss swollen lips and lust drowning out everything else.

_Red_.

Maria gasped as Alex's hands explored her body.

_Red_.

Alex, in turn, was underneath her, kissing up while his hands fell lower, guiding hers.

_Red_.

This wasn't love, not at all. It was all just-

_Red_


	53. Chapter 53

The rest of the day passed smoothly. Mark and John talked for hours, about anything and everything. It felt good, getting back together and just being able to hang out and reminisce. John had missed it, and now, without the weight of contanstant worry for Martha on his chest, it was joyful.

"Remember when you were ten?" Mark asked, smiling. "You tried to jump off the shed 'cause you thought you could fly."

John laughed. "I broke my arm."

"I laughed at you, Martha cried, Dad had a stroke."

Despite the brightness they both appeared to show, there was still the faint underlying anxiety and grief that sometimes rose to smother the laughter. When they would pause, fall silent for a moment, a demonic voice would whisper, " _what if she dies?_ "

Dear lord, if she died...John didn't know how he could live knowing he had one less family member. He had grown up sacrificing everything for Martha and Mark. He had skipped dinner to give them food when they were grounded to their rooms, snuck out at night and risked getting beaten to get things they had left outside, toys or books. It was his duty to protect them, but this time, he was helpless.

  
At 4:36 in the morning, Henry Laurens came barging into John's room, slamming open the door. "John!" he snapped. "Get up! Now."

John sat bold upright, instinctively flinching back, expecting a fist or, at the very least, a thrown object. "What?" he asked, bringing up his hands to protect himself from any potential danger.

"Get dressed. Meet me outside in five minutes." His eyes were wild, almost scared. John hadn't seen him look like that since- _since Mom died_. "I got a call from the hospital."

John's heart stopped. "What happened?"

Henry shook his head. "I'll explain in the car. Hurry!" He left the room, banging open Mark's door and yelling.

John's hands were shaking as he pulled on the pants and shirt from the previous day. He couldn't be bothered with tying his hair up or even brushing it, and had his phone in less than two minutes.

There was no way Alex would pick up, he thought, but better to try than not to.

Six rings.

Seven rings.

" _John_?"

John almost started crying. "Alex."

He sounded tired, voice quiet and slurring. " _What's up?_ "

"We're going to the hospital. They called my father. He won't tell me what's happening." His voice was calm despite his racing heart.

Suddenly, Alex seemed completely awake as he replied. " _Oh my god. Are you okay?_ "

"I don't know. I'm kinda freaking out right now."

"Breathe, Love," Alex said, trying to steady his voice. "Breathe."

John felt the tension leave his shoulders and he took a calming breath. Mark banged on his door. "I love you but I have to go now," he said softly. "I'll update you."

" _I love you too. I'll be awake._ " He hung up.

John pulled open the door and immediately Mark grabbed his hand and pulled him down the giant staircase. "Do you know what happened?" Mark asked, looking terrified. "Dad wouldn't tell me."

"Me neither," John said. "The doctors said she'd been stabilized."

Mark nodded. "Oh God." By the time they reached the car, it was 4:40.

Henry was already in the car. "Get in!" he barked.

"Dad," Mark asked, "what's happening? Is Martha okay?"

Henry sighed as he navigated the car out of the driveway and John felt ice fill his blood. "Something's happening with her heart. They didn't give me specifics, just that we'd want to be there." 

Mark covered his mouth. "Oh god. Is she-"

Henry pressed down on the gas, pushing past the speed limit. "Mary, if I knew I'd tell you," he snapped.

Mark looked down. "Sorry."

They pulled into the hospital parking lot at 4:57. The lot was mostly empty, dark and devoid of people and cars. Henry parked carelessly before beckoning his children from the car. "Hurry!"

John looked worriedly at Mark before they both went hurrying after their father. His heart was pounding in his chest, fear erasing anything else, blocking exhaustion. He didn't stop to apologize when he almost rammed into a man in the waiting room, running up to the front desk where Henry was demanding to see his daughter.

"Please, Senator Laurens, calm yourself," the woman at the desk was saying. "The doctors will speak to you shortly."

"I don't need shortly, I need now, dammit!" Henry snapped, slamming his hands down. The woman flinched back, eyes scared and wary.

"Senator, don't make me call security," she said, voice trembling a little.

Henry stood back, breathing heavily. At that moment, a tall, balding man came into the room. "Henry Laurens?"

Henry straightened, heading towards the man. John traded worried glances with Mark and they followed their father. "That's me," Henry said. "Take me to my daughter."

"Right this way." The man looked back at John and Mark, hardened eyes softening. 

"What's wrong with her?" Mark asked softly, hurrying to keep up.

"Her heart- we aren't entirely sure. It appears healthy but isn't functioning how it should." The man looked warily at Henry from the corner of his eye, as if afraid he would lash out.

John squeezed Mark's arm. "Will she be alright?" he asked, praying.

"We're doing all we can."

It was 5:05 when they arrived at her room. There was a group of doctors and nurses crowded around the bed, injecting liquids into the tubes running through her arms and murmuring. John felt his knees go weak and Mark eased him down to the floor, where they sat, simply watching.  
John took out his phone, sending a quick text to Alex.

_John: not looking good rn  
_

_John: idk what's happening  
_

_Alex: Love, I wish I was there for you  
_

_John: I do too_

He settled back against his brother, feeling Mark lean into him, both desperate for comfort and the reassurance that they were both okay. "She's gonna be fine," John breathed, feeling Mark's shoulders trembling. He wrapped an arm around him. "She's gonna be fine."

Mark didn't say anything, just shifted closer.

The morning dragged on. Doctors came and went, speaking classified words to each other and Henry. As the sun slowly began its rise over a misty morning, the worst news came.

The doctor was a stone faced man with a receding grey hairline. At 6:34, he pulled the three of them out of the room. "Mr. Laurens, I have something to discuss with you. Your children are to remain."

Henry nodded, glancing over at John and Mary. "Yes?"

"Miss Martha's...current condition was brought on by chronic stress- and I'm talking chronic- as well as not eating enough. Whether or not the food side of this was intentionally brought on by herself is a mystery, but-"

Henry cut him off. "What are you saying? Will my daughter be alright?" His tone was dark and worried.

John held his breath, praying to anything and everything. She had to be alright. Had to be.

The doctor hesitated. "I'm afraid her chances of full recovery are very, very low. We've done what we can, but her heart has been damaged beyond repair from years of mistreatment. The waiting list for a transplant is so long. Our machines and tests...one of our nurses accidentally switched her stats with someone else's. I'd give her between five days and two weeks. This is years of physical and mental issues and stress. In fact..." he hesitated. "Mr. Laurens, understand me here, but we've had to call the police. Such severe ailments can only be tracked down to one person- the parents.”

The conversation faded into a misty background. In John's mind, those words, "... _damaged beyond repair,_ " were ringing in his ears, his brain, through his body. Beyond repair. Mark's legs gave out and he pulled them both down.

"No," he whispered, hands fisting in his pink shirt. "No."

John pulled him against his chest, stroking his back in a desperate attempt to calm them both. "It's alright," he breathed, securing the mask onto his face. "It's alright."

"It's not," Mark whispered, and John felt tears soak through his shirt. "Oh my god."

If he could, John would have broken down right there, released all his grief and terror. He couldn't. He had to stay strong, stay calm, for Mark. For himself. He took a steadying breath, pulling them both up. He needed to get out of this before he broke, before the facade he'd spent years working on crumbled. He felt bad about having to escape, but Mark would be better off not seeing this part of him, which had been kept hidden for so long. "I need to call Alex," he said softly, hesitating. “Sorry.”

"Go ahead," Mark whispered, drying his eyes. He knew it was deeper than that. He knew John wouldn't choose Alex over his own family- he was hiding something. "I'll be fine."

John nodded, swallowing back tears. He walked a little ways down the hall, turning a corner and sinking down against the wall. His hands were shaking almost to the point where he couldn't even hold his phone. It took him three tries to get the number right without hitting the wrong numbers.

" _Love_?" Alex answered, picking up the phone on the first ring. " _Everything okay?_ "

"Alex..." John whispered, voice breaking. "Oh my god. Alex, they gave her between five days and two weeks." Saying it made it all the more real and he felt tears constrict his voice.

Alex was silent for a long moment. " _Love, I am so, so sorry_." Grief was fresh in his voice. " _You okay_?"

"No."  
" _I'm so sorry. I wish I was there with you. Are you planning to stay until..._ " he trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

"I'm going to ask my father to let you fly out. Alex...Alex, I don't think I can do this without you." John covered his mouth, choking on a sob.

Alex's voice was soft, soothing. " _Listen to me, okay? You're going to be fine. Until I see you again, I need you to be strong and keep yourself safe. I love you."_

"I love you too." He closed his eyes, letting a few tears slip down his cheeks. "Alex..."

" _Yeah, Love?_ "

"Thanks for the letter."

Alex laughed softly, and there were galaxies packed into that laugh. " _No problem. I'm glad you liked it."_

"It made my day," John said, smiling slightly. 

"John!" his father called from somewhere down the hall. John's smiled faded.

"Have to go. I'll call you again soon."

Alex hummed. " _Okay. I love you. Stay safe."_

_How do I stay safe from my own mind?_ "Okay," John said. "I love you. Make sure you eat enough and sleep and get to class on time."

" _Love you,_ " Alex said, a smile clear in his voice. He hung up.

John stood there for a moment, soaking up the silence. He didn't want to move, to face what was happening in that hospital room. He didn't want to think, to exist.

"John!" his father called again, this time more agitated.

He sighed and pulled himself back to reality, back to the terrible present, and walked down to meet his father, brother, and the doctors who would tell him that his sister would die.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween and/or el dia de los muertos!


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: homophobic slurs and actions

Thomas wasn't having a good day already, even without Charles Lee and George King.

Washington's unit test was right after lunch and Thomas had gotten hardly three hours of sleep the previous night because James had a fever. Of course he had also insisted on going to school, claiming that he couldn't miss today, so Thomas had been stressing about it for the entire day, hardly able to even concentrate on studying for his exam.

He sighed, looking around. It was lunch break and James was supposed to be meeting him out in the court yard. Was supposed to meet him nearly ten minutes ago. Worry that Thomas insisted was irrational churned his stomach. James probably stayed after class to ask about an assignment, or was talking with Lafayette or someone. He was probably completely fine.

Nonetheless, he was about to take out his phone and call James when he saw him coming out of the building to meet him.

Something looked...off. He was swaying slightly, and leaning on the wall for support. Thomas stood, moving as quickly as he could without running towards him. "James!"

James looked up. His face was sweaty and grey, eyes glassy. "Thomas," he said, smiling genuinely despite his appearance. "Hi." Then he collapsed, knees buckling.

Thomas moved quickly, easing James down onto the cement so he wouldn't get hurt. "James!" he cried. "James!"

James' skin burned his hand, clammy and hot. His eyes were closed, breathing coming in short gasps. Thomas scrambled in James' bag, pulling out his water bottle. His hands were shaking. James opened his eyes halfway, blinking up at him. "Sorry," he breathed.

Thomas pressed a kiss to his forehead. "It's okay," he replied. "Hang on. We're gonna go home after this, okay?" James nodded. "Can you drink this for me?"

"Don't know," he whispered, but guided Thomas' hand to his lips and took a few sips. "Okay," he breathed.

Thomas smiled slightly. "Good." He stroked James' forehead, letting his hand linger on his cheek. He was burning up. "Do you think you can stand?"

"I'm fine," he said, pushing himself off of Thomas. His face went grey and he closed his eyes, swaying for a moment. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You really aren't," Thomas insisted, wrapping an arm around his waist. "You just passed out!"

James shrugged. "I don't want you to skip class because of me." He sounded guilty, as if he wasn't allowed to be sick, to be taken care of. "I always get sick, I can take care of myself."

"I don't care," Thomas said softly. "I'll get you home and then I'll come back for my exam. I don't have anything important after that."

"You sure?" James asked, leaning heavily against Thomas.

"One hundred percent, Babe." Thomas pulled him closer and they began walking towards Thomas's car. James stumbled a little.

"Sorry," he apologized, stopping to steady himself. "Sorry about this."

Thomas shushed him, waiting until he started moving again to guide them to the car. He stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of it. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he exclaimed. “Holy shit…”

The wheels were slashed, deflated. Two windows were smashed, one on each side. Glass was scattered like tiny tears on the grey cement, reflecting dull blue light. The worst was written in red spray paint on the side of the car. Thick, bold letters spelled out the word, " _cocksuckers_."

James let out a gasp at the sight. "Oh my god..."

Thomas looked around, hearing something move. Perhaps it was just the wind. "Oh, fucking hell," he snarled, among out his phone and calling Laf. "Yeah, it's me," he said when they answered. "Send a teacher, preferably Washington down to the parking lot. No...no, we're fine. Thanks." He hung up, looking down at James.

He looked almost worse, face even more grey, and it looked like he could hardly keep his eyes from slipping shut. His head lolled against Thomas's shoulder, burning through his shirt. Worry sank like a rock in his stomach. If anyone was there, the two of them wouldn't stand a chance. Thomas would be able to defend himself, but James...Lord, he didn't think he could survive seeing James in a hospital.

"Hey," he said softly, hiding his worry with annoyance at the state of the car, slapping James' face. "Stay with me, Babe."

James blinked open his eyes, fixing them on Thomas's face. "Hey," he croaked. "Is Washington coming?"

"Probably," Thomas soothed. "How do you feel?"

James shrugged, trying to stand up straighter. "I'll live."

"You'd better." He kissed the top of James' head, listening carefully to every noise around them, trying to decide if someone was hiding or not. "You want to sit?"

"Yeah." He let Thomas lower them both down and on to the cement, careful of any wayward glass pieces. "I shouldn't have gone to school," he murmured once they were situated.

Thomas nodded. "You shouldn't have."

Suddenly James' eyes went wide, looking over Thomas's shoulder. "Love," he breathed. "Behind you."

Thomas' head swiveled around, scanning the area. George King and Charles Lee had appeared from the small mass of trees growing beside the lot. Fear curdled in his stomach. James squeezed his hand, as is assuring him that they were going to be alright. "What do you want?" Thomas asked, hand on his phone.

"Nothing," King said, looking just slightly more deranged than usual. "We just wanted to make sure you knew what you are-" he gestured at the car. -"cocksuckers."

"Why should it be any of concern or interest of your?" James said, voice hardly loud enough for them to hear.

Lee sneered. "I don't want dirty faggots around here. Especially the son of a friend of my father's."

Thomas clenched his fists. "He disowned me. I'm not his son."

"The media still sees you as that," Lee said. "You really don't have a clue what some people have said about my father, do you? They know we used to be close, and they're accusing my father of being a fag himself."

"I actually don't care. It's completely illogical and not my concern."

King stepped forward and Thomas shifted his body to shield James. "Maybe your safety won't be my concern, Jefferson."

Lee held out an arm. "Don't touch him," he snapped. King froze, head whipping around to look at him. Thomas wouldn't be surprised if this was the first command he'd ever been given. Lee smiled. "He doesn't care about himself. If you've got to go after anybody, go after Madison."

"No!" Thomas shouted, pulling his boyfriend closer to his chest. James shrank back against him. "He hasn't done anything to you!"

"Maybe not, but would you care if we hurt you?" King snarled. He aimed a kick around Thomas' side, aiming for James. Thomas crouched, feeling the blow connect with his shoulder.

Suddenly, Lee's hands were on his arms, forcing him to release James, who weakly attempted to push himself away. "Isn't it strange," he sneered, "that the best way to hurt is not to even touch your physical body?"

  
Thomas elbowed him in the gut, trying to pull away, but Lee sat on his back, twisting his arms at an uncomfortable angle. "Let go!" he shouted, thrashing as best he could. Where was Laf?

King's tall, thin figure towered over him. "Angle him," he instructed Lee. "I want him to watch." Lee twisted him, forcing his head towards James, who was standing but looked like he might keel over at any given moment.

"Thomas!" James called, eyes fixed on him, they were unwavering, unafraid. "Thomas, don’t-“

King's first struck him across the cheekbone and he stumbled back. Thomas let out a scream of fury. "Don't touch him!" he shouted, thrashing under Lee. "Don't you fucking touch him!"

At that very moment, Lafayette came running into the parking lot, followed by Hamilton and Professor Washington. Their eyes were wide and worried, skirt flying as they sprinted towards them. "Thomas!" they shouted.

King's eyes widened and he aimed one last kick at James' stomach, knocking him over, and delivering a sharp punch to his jaw, before gesturing to Lee. The pressure on Thomas' back disappeared as the two of them bolted. For a moment, he lay there, winded, processing what happened. Then Laf's frantic hands were on him, pulling him up, checking him.  
"Are you okay?" they asked, eyes wide and voice frantic. “Oh my god.”

Thomas nodded. "Yeah." He let his hand linger on theirs, telling them again that he was fine, before bolting towards James.

James was lying on his back, almost still. His eyes were closed, blood running down his face and out of the corner of his mouth. Thomas felt his heart drop, hovering over him, scared to touch, as if the slightest caress would shatter him. “James?” he whispered, heart in throat. “Oh god.”

James cracked his eyes open, fixing them in Thomas. “Thomas,” he whispered, face screwed up in pain.

"You alright?" Thomas demanded, running his hands down James' abdomen, not sure what he was looking for. He lifted him up, pulling him into his lap. James nodded, pressing his face against Thomas' neck. "I love you."

"Love you," James whispered, voice trembling, unnervingly weak. “I'm okay.”

Washington crouched beside them, face tense. "Are you two alright?"

"We're fine," Thomas said softly. "I am. James- he has a fever and now..."

"Will he need a doctor?"  
James shook his head. Thomas stroked his hair. "No. He needs to rest."

Washington nodded, understanding. "You are both excused for the rest of the day. I assure you that King and Lee will be dealt with accordingly. I can call an taxi, or if there's someone who could pick you up..."

Thomas shrugged. "I'm not sure. I've got the unit exam next period. Thank you, sir." 

“You can probably come in during lunch tomorrow or, if you want, get him settled and come back to take it, then leave.”

“I'll take it during lunch. Thank you, sir.” He didn't want to leave James, felt as if he couldn't.

Laf cleared their throat. "I can see if Herc can pick you up. I'm sure he'd love an excuse to get out of work."

He smiled. "That would be wonderful, Laf."

Ten minutes later, Herc pulled up in the parking lot. His eyes fell on the vandalized car, and he went silent. "My lord," he said quietly. "Wow."

"I know," Thomas said stonily. His voice softened when he looked down at James, hardly conscious. "Love, you need to move, okay?"

James nodded, helping Thomas push them both up. "I'm alright," he said, answering the question before Thomas even spoke it. Together, they made their way to the car.

Herc opened the door for them before walking over to Laf and Hamilton and talking quietly with them. Thomas saw him squeeze Hamilton's shoulder in sympathy, and press a quick kiss to Laf's forehead. James groaned, pulling his attention back.

"Hey," Thomas breathed, shifting so that James was lying across his lap. "Hey."

James blinked, as if trying to clear his vision. "Hey," he said, smiling. There was already a bruise forming on his cheek and blinding anger rose in Thomas's chest. James squeezed his hand. "I'm alright."

"I was so scared," Thomas whispered, petting his hair absentmindedly. "God, I was terrified that they'd hurt you too badly."

James closed his eyes. "But they didn't. It would take more than that.”

"I could have done something more. I _should_ have done something." 

James raised his hand, pressing it to Thomas' face and forcing him to look at him. "Don't," he said softly. "Don't beat yourself up over this. I'm fine. A lot of this is the fever- you know how often I'm sick, and how it gets. I'm just a little scraped up. I'll be back to normal in no time.”

Herc opened the door, climbing in to the car. He glanced in the back, at the shaken faces. "Am I interrupting something?"

James waved a hand. "No."

They pulled out of the parking lot. After about five minutes on the road, James fell asleep. Thomas took that as an opportunity to talk to Herc.

"Mulligan," he said softly. "How's Laf?"

Hercules looked back at him, smiling slightly. "They're fine. We haven't addressed the note or anything, but I'd like to think they've been happier."

"That's good." He sighed, looking out the window. "Keep them safe. I don't if I could survive loosing them. You have knifes and medications locked up, right?”

"Oh course I do. Medicine, razors and knifes, rope, everything. I couldn't bear to loose them.” An uncomfortable silence fell, starting to soak into their bones. Herc decided to break it. "How's everything?"

Thomas smiled slightly. "He'll be fine."  _He'd better be._

"That's not exactly what I was asking. How are you two?" Herc caught his eye in the rearview mirror.

"We're fine," Thomas said, stroking James' hair again. "Why?"

This time, he avoided his eye. "Alex and John...I don't think they're working. I thought I should check in with everyone else.”

It was a slight blow to hear that. The two always acted so inseparable and in love, disgustingly so, whenever Thomas saw them. And he knew John, knew he loved Alex, and Thomas, to an extent, cared about John. They were similar in terms of home and childhood, and what they had in the past had not been forgotten- by either of them. "Really?" he asked. "Why?"

"I'm sure Laf told you about the library incident."

Thomas nodded, a sick feeling rose in his chest. "Oh fuck. Did Alex actually-?"

Herc laughed sadly, shaking his head. "No. No. They've just...they've started to fall apart after that. Alex hasn't even apologized, and now..." he trailed off. "I shouldn't tell you."

"Tell me."

"John's in the South with his father and siblings at the moment. His sister, Martha, is dying." Herc looked away.

Thomas froze. His heart broke for the boy. He had known him all those years ago, back when his mother had died. The kid had hardly survived that. "Oh," he breathed. "Jesus." Not having any siblings of his own, he couldn't imagine what John must be feeling.

Herc pulled into the lot of their apartment. "I know. I'm so worried for him, honestly. Here's your stop."

Thomas sighed. "I hate to admit it, but I'm worried too." He shook James' shoulder gently. He blinked open exhausted eyes, gazing up at Thomas. "It's our stop," Thomas said softly.

"Thanks," James said, letting Thomas help him sit up. "Thanks, Herc."

"Thanks, Herc," Thomas echoed. "Come on, Love, lets go." He helped him out of the car, practically carrying him up the stairs to the apartment. "Hold on," he breathed, unlocking the door.

James' knees went out, and Thomas grabbed him. "Sorry," James mumbled. "Sorry."

"It's alright," Thomas soothed. "Slow and steady." He pushed the door open, helping James through it. "A little farther, that's it."

Painstakingly slowly, they made their way to the bedroom, where Thomas helped James get comfortable on the bed. He rushed off to the bathroom to get a thermometer and wet towels.

"Hey," he breathed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Open your eyes." He started wiping the sweat off James' face with a towel.

James opened his eyes, smiling up at Thomas. "You look like an angel."

"Do I?"

"Yeah." He furrowed his brow, confusion written on his face. Delirious from fever. Now that the primary threat of King and Lee were gone, he'd allowed himself to let go a little. Never a good sign. “You're the most beautiful I've ever seen.”

“Am I?” Thomas didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but felt like doing both. “Have you seen many?”

He shook his head, sighing. “No.”

Thomas felt his heart melt and he kissed his forehead. “Shhh,” he murmured.

"Are you my angel?" James asked in a small voice, half asleep. His eyes were unfocused, exhausted.

Thomas felt sudden emotion constrict his breathing. "Yes," he said softly. "I'm your angel."

James smiled, eyes fixed on Thomas's face. "Mine?"

"Yours," he confirmed. "Always. For as long as we live. Always."

 

 


	55. Chapter 55

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for child abuse

It was nearly 5:00 in the afternoon when they got the call. John had been in the South nearly a week now, waiting with baited breath for any phone to ring, to hear any news about Martha, good or bad. They weren't allowed to visit her for now as the surgeons were operating on her heart, trying to find out what had made it so weak and how to fix it, at least temporarily.

Henry was the one to answer the phone, hands shaking so hard that the phone moved up and down. Up and down. Up and down. John watched the movement, counting each time it moved, counting because it was steady and calmed him. These numbers had a definite order, a definite structure, unlike the world around him, the world falling into chaos.

He raised the phone to his ear and listened to news that John was too scared to ask about. He saw his fear reflected in Mark's eyes.

Suddenly, Henry slammed his phone down on the table. John could hear it crack and his heart stopped. Instinctively, he moved in front of Mark, shielding him from their father's rage. But when he looked up from the pieces of his broken phone, his face was dead. Cold, empty, ugly, carefully emotionless.

"Time of death: 4:53," he said in a flat voice. "They couldn't reach us in time. It happened too…too suddenly. Cardiac arrest during the operation."

John saw Mark drop to his knees out of the corner of his eye, collapsing in on himself. John wished he could do that but stood strong, keeping the tears at bay. He nailed on his facade with all his strength, keeping it up no matter how much it hurt and how much he bled. He had to be strong, despite everything inside of him shattering, crumbling. John knelt next to Mark, stroking his back. "Breathe," he soothed. "Breathe."

"She's gone," Mark whispered miserably. "She's gone. Just like Mom, just gone." He sounded empty, not comprehending what had just happened.

He wrapped his arm around him, trying to push away the pain of the unimaginable. "I know." _Be strong, be brave for Mark._

"She's gone..."

John let out a sob and felt Mark stiffen. Guilt flooded him. He needed to be stronger than ever, needed to push away his shock. “We’re going to be okay,” he murmured. “Okay?”

“Okay. I trust you.” His voice was so weak, so small, that John felt tears breaking through his facade and falling into Mark’s hair.

“You can always trust me,” he breathed shakily. “I'm your big brother, okay? I know everything.”

It was a tearful laugh and Mark shifted so he was resting his chin in the crook of John’s neck, tears wetting his shirt. “I know. I just…Jacky, she's gone. She's…and we weren't even there!” His voice broke. “What if she saw the empty chair and thought we'd left her?”

John sighed, stroking his hair. He felt like he was dying, like he was being suffocated, drowned, burned alive. The pain of the unimaginable was overwhelming, all consuming. He couldn't stay here, couldn't let his little brother see him break. Martha was gone but the fact hadn't sunken in.

The fact he'd never see her bright smile or hug her or sit her down and tell her that he was so proud of all she'd acheieved, the fact he'd never see her in a wedding dress or see her graduate high school or college, never be able to meet her spouse or watch her have children and raise them like she'd always wanted. She was gone.

She was gone.

He'd failed. 

His only job had been to take care of his siblings and now...

She was gone.

He pulled Mark tighter against him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. _Never you,_ he vowed. _Dear God, I will die before anything ever happens to you._

Mark looked up at John. "You don't have to stay down here," he said softly. "I know you won't let me see you cry- go call Alex if you need to. You need him," Mark whispered. "He helps you. You don't have to be strong. I'll be fine."

Henry was staring blankly at the table, eyes dry. He didn't look up when John stood. "May I be excused?" he said softly, refusing to cry, to let himself breakdown. He'd just grieve alone. Mark couldn't see him cry.

"Going to go call your faggot boyfriend?" Henry snarled suddenly, eyes flashing. "It should have you, not her."

John nodded, trying to deflect the verbal blow, but the overwhelming grief had already struck down his shield, and the words hit him in full force."Yeah, I'm gonna go call my faggot boyfriend, and you know what? I do wish it was me. Hell, I'd love for it to be me!" 

Henry's slap was expected, but a shock nonetheless. "It should be!" he sneered, cornering John against a wall. "You don't deserve life any more than she did! You don't deserve it!"

"You think I don't know that?" he shouted, fear gone, replaced with anger and hatred and bottled up grief. "I've known that since I was eight years old!"

"Good!"

Mark pushed between them, pressing his back against John. He could feel the bandages around his chest. "Stop it!" he shouted. "Dad, stop!"

"Get out of the way, Mary," Henry breathed. "Go to your room."

"Leave him alone," he insisted, refusing to budge. "You don't get to hurt him because you're upset. Would Mom want that? Would Martha?"

The room dropped ten degrees. Nobody spoke, nobody breathed. Henry seemed to wrestle internally, turning away just long enough for John to grab Mark's arm and they ran up the stairs, locking themselves in Mark's bedroom.

"We have to leave," John said softly. "We have to go to the police."

"We don't have the evidence," Mark argued. "They'd return us to him."

John shook his head. "He's already on a watch list, after..." Martha. He could bring himself to say her name. Grief flooded him again and this time, he couldn't stop the tears. He wiped them away angrily. "Point is, if we report this, we can press charges."

Mark shook his head. "You know that's not how it works. His buddies can get him out of any mess. Jack, he's going to hurt us. You. Again."

John smiled sadly. "Not if we run. And you know we can run."

"Martha..." he choked on the name. "Martha wouldn't want us to."

"She wouldn't want us to stay here either."

"I know." He smiled, tears brimming in his eyes. "This will get us killed. If, per say, we do run, I want to tell him."

John had to think for a second to realize what he meant. "Mark," he breathed. "No. He'll...he could kill you. You know how he reacted with me…”

"But he'll know the truth," Mark said softly. "I just want him to know."

John nodded. "Let me call Alex."

He took out his phone, hands shaking. Downstairs, he heard the crash of glass and supposed Henry was taking out his grief on their China. One ring. Two rings. There it was, the order within the chaos. Three rings.

" _John_?" Alex asked, picking up. " _Hey, Love._ "

John heaved a sigh, relishing in the familiar voice. "Alex." He was crying. When had that started? Rationally, he knew he was in shock from the news, that it hadn't fully sunk in. "Alex. She's gone..."

He didn't answer for a long moment. " _Love, I...I don't know what to say."_

"That's a first. 4:53, that's when we got the call," John said, wiping away tears. "I need you. I need you here with me. Love..." he looked over at Mark before standing and walking to the corner of the room, lowering his voice. "Love, I don't think I can do this."

" _You promised me,_ " Alex said softly. " _You don't get to break that."_

John shook his head, throat suffocatingly full of tears and bottled up sobs. His heart ached. "I know. Babe, I don't want to break that. Mark and I might be leaving. My dad's getting violent-"

Alex cut him off. " _Did he hurt you?_ " John didn't answer. " _Answer me!"_

"He hit me," he admitted. "Not hard. I'm fine."

" _That bastard_ ," Alex swore, red hot anger rising in his voice. " _I'll fucking kill him!"_

John smiled softly. "Alex. We're leaving. I don't know where we're going to go, or what's gonna happen, but we can't stay here. He's going to hurt us if we stay here."

Alex was silent for a long moment. John could hear him breathing. " _I can't stop you, can I? If he's getting violent, you need to leave. Go to the police, go to a sheriff, go to authority."_

"I know," John sighed, heavily. He sounded old, as if life had aged him past his years. "It feels so...rushed. One minute, my sister's...gone, and the next, we might have to leave. I want to have the time to grieve properly. I can't. I can't grieve." He lowered his voice. "I have to be strong."

" _You don't have to be_ ," Alex soothed. " _You can't always be strong. Especially now._ "

"Babe, I love you, but you don't understand. It's my job." The sound of feet stomping up the stairs stopped his heart for a second. "Shit, he's coming. Alex, I love you. I love you, I love you. Tell Laf and Herc that I love them too. Tell Maria and the Schuyler's that they're like sisters to me. Tell Jefferson…tell him that it's okay.”

Alex's voice was confused and worried. " _What's okay? Why are you talking like you're going to die?"_

"That he wasn't here this time. Promise me you'll tell them that," John insisted. Mark looked at the door, eyes wide with fear.

"John," he said, voice shrill. "John!"

"Promise me!" John demanded. "I'll be fine."

After a pause, Alex said, " _of course. I love you so much. Remember that, and be safe. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."_

"I have to go." The footsteps were getting louder and louder. John checked his watch. Only 5:23. "Bye, Alex. I love you." He hung up, going to sit next to Mark.

"John..." he whispered. "What's he going to do?" He was shaking slightly, clutching the sheets.

"I don't know," John said softly. "He won't lay a hand on you, I promise."

Mark shook his head. "I can't handle seeing you hurt." The footsteps stopped outside of the room.

"John Laurens," came the terrible voice. "Come out." He was slurring slightly, as if...

"Is he drunk?" Mark asked. "Don't go out there." He tugged on John's arm. "Don't you dare."

John shrugged him off. "What is it, sir?" he pulled the door open, waiting the blow that didn't come.  
Henry was most definitely drunk. His eyes were red and weepy, unfocused as they surveyed the room. "We need to plan a funeral."

John wanted to scream. He hadn't even thought about one yet, hadn't touched the fact that they would have to bury his sister beneath the earth and let her rot away to nothingness. He was dying, crumbling, folding into himself like burning paper inside. Outside, he nodded. "I suppose so, sir."

Henry leaned forward, uncoordinated hand pointing at him. "Don't get smart with me," he slurred. "We should be looking at caskets for you, not her. We never even wanted you."

John nodded, refusing to get mad. "I know."

"You're a fucking faggot," he slurred, started to raise his voice. "Fucking faggot. I should have raised you better. Taught you to be a man."

He braced himself. This was the beginning, and soon it would escalate into a full blown beating. There wasn't an escape yet, he'd have to take it. The physical means as well as the physiological ones. The words hurt more than anything else, perhaps. Faggot. Mistake. Pussy. He'd heard these all before.

"With all do respect, sir," John started, "I am a man. Very much so, in fact."

Suddenly, he was knocked backwards. Mark shrieked, pressing himself against the wall.

"Don't talk back to me," Henry growled. "You should be dead! Should never have been born. You should fucking kill yourself so we wouldn't have to put up with you anymore!”

The words echoed profoundly in his head, bouncing through his brain. He should have killed himself. Should have gone through with his plan that night in the beach, so long ago. He turned to Mark, shoving him down. “Close your eyes! Plug your ears! Do it, Mary!” he shouted, pushing a pillow down on top of him. He curled into the blankets, covering his head “Don't look until I tell you too!”

Henry pushed him down. John curled in to himself, protecting his head and neck from pounding kicks. They poured like rain onto his body, making him whimper. He couldn't get enough breath to scream. He wanted Alex, he wanted to be safe. He couldn't handle this. One connected with his ribs so hard he saw black dots appear, flooding his vision. He wanted to loose consciousness, to tap out of it. It would be a blessing. To just die would be a blessing. If Henry killed him, Mark would have a path to escape. He'd no longer be allowed to live with him. He'd be free, finally. Maybe it would be worth it.

_No_.

_Stay strong for Mark. I have to stay strong for Mark. He's lost one sibling today, he can't loose another._

In the background, he heard Mark screaming, "dad, stop!" His voice was verging on hysterical, and through John's slightly open eyes, he saw him pull Henry's arm back, trying to wrench him away.

Then, Henry hit Mark backwards to that he stumbled onto the bed, clutching his cheek. Fury more than any he had ever experienced coursed through his blood and he forced his screaming body up, pushing his father away.

"Don't touch her!" he screamed, forcing his father towards the door, thanking god that he used female pronouns. "You can kill me if you want, but you don't get to touch her!"

Henry slipped through the door. "You'll regret doing that, John," he threatened as John locked the door behind him.

John turned, head pounding. His body hurt, and he knew he'd have some fantastic bruises tomorrow. Mark was staring at him, a red handprint across his face. "You alright? I told you to stay down!” John said, swaying unsteadily. Black spots flitted in and out of his vision and his ribs were screaming. “He hit you…”

Mark nodded, but he had tears running down one side of his face. "I'm okay. John-"

John's knees gave out, and he collapsed forward, grunting as hit the ground. Everything went dark for a second, but slowly his vision cleared. All his strength was gone, as if it had fled him. He was exhausted, wanted to sleep, to escape the pain. He wanted Alex, wanted him to be there and to help him. "Alex..." he choked. Mark dropped to his knees beside him.

"I'll get medication," he said softly. They had been over this drill before, countless times. They had done this drill when Mark was four years old. It didn't faze either of them anymore.

"Wait," John croaked. "Please, call Alex."

Mark nodded, reaching for his phone and dialing Alex's number. He held it up to his ear. "Alex?" Mark asked. "Hi, it's me." He paused. "Yeah, Alex. No, he's not. Not right now. It's our dad again. Yeah, I'm giving you to him." He set the phone gently in John's hand, helping him angle is body to hold the phone.

"Alex," John whispered, feeling as if he was going to cry.

Stay strong for Mark.

" _Are you okay?_ " Alex asked, voice verging on hysteria. " _Was it your father? Laf's buying me a ticket, I'm going to fly out."_

John smiled slightly. "Breathe, Babe. I'll be fine." He didn't know how true that was.

" _I wish I was there. I'd have given your father a fucking piece of my mind,_ " he cursed.

"I know," John soothed. "Stop pacing. I can hear you. Sit down."

Alex laughed sheepishly. " _Sorry_."

"No problem."

Alex cleared his throat. " _So_..."

"Yeah..."

_"I love you."_ The words wrapped around John, like arms, shielding him, protecting him. They were comforting, felt like home. _"I love you so much, and I wish I was there. Keep going, Love, and I'll be there noon tomorrow. Leave if you have to. Your safety is the top priority."_

"I'm trying," he whispered. "I'm trying so hard to be strong. To be a good big brother. Alex, I can't do this anymore. It's destroying me. But I need to. I need to be strong. Mark doesn't have anyone else. He needs me."

When he answered, Alex sounded almost tearful. " _Love, hold on until tomorrow. I'll be there and I'll cover you."_

"I love you...can you just talk to me? Say anything."

" _I'm going to read to you,"_ Alex said softly. " _Something I wrote to you so long ago, okay? Like that letter in your luggage."_

John smiled. He felt himself drifting away into unconsciousness but kept a hold on the words that Alex spoke, trying to hold on. "Okay."

" _This was when I realized I loved you."_ He cleared his thrown. " _Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than word, to convince you that I love you. I shall only tell you that 'till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my dear, it was not well done. You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how it is my desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others. You should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent. But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my own sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me. Yours affectionately, A. Ham."_

John hadn't heard Mark come back in the room. He also hadn't thought he was crying, but the tears on his hand told a different story. This was the boy he had fallen in love with. How had he managed to be that lucky? "I love you," he whispered. "I love your words, you voice."

" _I love you,"_ Alex murmured. " _Every word is true._ "

“Alex…I didn't tell you…I didn't want to.” John swallowed, forcing his exhausted lips to form words. “Martha…her heart condition was genetic. It's what…” he closed his eyes, “it's what killed my mom. Or it was part of what killed her.”

Alex didn't answer but John heard him breathing on the other end. “ _I'm sorry.”_

"Jack," Mark said, crouching beside him. "I have everything."

John nodded at him, holding up a hand. "Babe, I have to go. I promise we'll be okay. Tell Thomas it's okay, remember that."

" _You'd better be,"_ Alex said. " _I'll tell him. Goodbye. I love you."_ He hung up, leaving a spreading sense of emptiness in John's chest.

John sighed, taking a deep breath. He had to be strong. Just until tomorrow.

_Don't think about Martha, don't think about your father, don't think about the pain._

_Be strong for Mark._

_Be strong._

 


	56. Chapter 56

Lafayette was pacing.

They had been pacing for hours now, ever since Alex had run to their and Herc's apartment, breathless and sobbing, spilling out the entire story. He was terrified for John, he had confessed. So terrified. Laf had already purchased a ticket for him, refusing to be paid back.

Now, Alex was sitting in the kitchen doing school work because he insisted it took his mind off of his anxiety about John. There wasn't anything more anyone could do for the time being.

They had called the Schuyler's and Maria over for comfort, but Maria had turned them down, saying she had work. The sisters were on their way, bringing with them doughnuts.

It was 5:46. The sky was foreboding, unusual weather for the ends of spring, which trailed around, taking its time. Laf, in their imagination, took it as a sign that something was coming, despite rationally knowing they were all fine.

"Laf, sit down," Herc said softly from his place on the couch. "Thomas just texted you."

Laf jumped, pulled from their thoughts. "He did? Is it about James? Are they alright?" They practically leaped for the phone. Herc handed it to them.

ThomasTheTrain: _hey. Letting u know that we r both okay. James is asleep at the moment, and his fever is dropping. Still worried  
_

Lafbaguette: _he'll be fine. He's strong_

ThomasTheTrain: _I couldn't survive seeing him in a hospital_

Laf glanced over at Herc. In their long, long friendship, they had seen him cry, break bones, bandage injuries, but they had never seen him in the hospital. They tried to think about what it would be like and felt a terrible pain in their heart. They couldn't imagine seeing Herc looking small and fragile amidst white sheets, like Thomas had been.

Lafbaguette: _I know_

"Laf?" Herc said softly. "Everything okay?" His hand was gentle, pulling them down beside him.

Laf nodded, burying their face in his shirt. It was soft, wine red. "I can't imagine what it's like for him right now," they breathed, not needing to clarify who it was. They both knew it was referring to both Thomas and Alex.

Herc kissed the top of their head. "I know," he soothed, wrapping a protective arm around them.

Laf smiled. "You never leave me, okay?"

"Promise. Now you promise me that."  
"Promise." They hesitated a moment, just for a second, but Herc noticed.

He sighed, resting his chin on Laf's head, stroking their back. "When I first saw you, I was shocked. You were so young, so innocent, so scared looking."

"What are you doing?" Laf asked, tilting their head upwards.

"Just listen," Herc murmured, kissing their hair. "I didn't know what to make of you, of your appearance, your broken English. I didn't know what to assume, so I assumed nothing. We started talking, you remember? My terrible French, and your terrible English. Do you remember me giving you my number? Telling you "just in case"? It was at that very moment, I knew that I was completely and utterly fucked."

Laf laughed into his shirt. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Just listen, you impatient bastard," Herc said, smiling. "Remember that supermarket, where we met Thomas? You were speaking French and he replied to you in the language. You were so excited, and soon you two were having a conversation. I stayed there with you. I didn't trust him, and when you told him your pronouns, he wasn't quick to accept. I suppose it comes with growing up in a super conservative household, right?"

"Right." They closed their eyes, listening to his voice rolling like thunder, deep and comforting. “He's proved himself countless times since then.”

"I remember those moments we'll never talk about again. The moments when I was so terrified, I thought my heart might give out. I remember every single one, and I remember Thomas being almost hysterical, refusing to leave you after those." He unconsciously, shifted so that his arms were firmly around them.

They both knew what he was referring to; the bridge, the high school boys broken nose.  
Herc took a deep breath. "I remember one day- can't remember which, because it happened so gradually, I don't know the absolute date- but I remember seeing you one day, late on a summer night. I think we were sitting on the roof of our first apartment. I remember how you looked, everything about you. And I remember realizing what you meant to me."

Laf kissed his neck. "Oh, god," they breathed, voice dripping with affection.

"I remember you telling me that you had met two boys, that you had to help one of them because his father had attacked him. John and Alex. I remember you saying that they liked each other, so you wouldn't pursue either. I remember having to hold you because of the memories it triggered. I remember thinking that you'd never see those boys again, and I wouldn't have to worry."

"If I had known..." they whispered. “Oh, if I had only known…”

"You didn't know," Herc said softly. "I remember you telling me you were going to ask out Alex, and you actually doing it. John and I hid behind the house. He was panicking, and so you know what he said about Alex? He said, "he will never be satisfied," and I was scared for you."

Laf turned their face up towards Herc. "I should have known. God, I should have known. I caused you both so much pain."

"It was worth it, in the end," Herc said softly. Neither of them noticed the Schuyler's enter the room. "I remember you and Alex breaking up, how in pain you looked. You really loved him. I remember telling you how I felt and you saying you didn't reciprocate my feelings. My heart broke."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Their eyes were sad and remorseful, voice seeping with guilt and regret.

"Don't be, because I remember and when we kissed. Lord, I had been waiting for that," Herc said with a smile. "I get to spend my time with you doing what I've wanted to do for years. Kissing you, holding you, sleeping next to you." His heart raced as they traced soft fingers across his chest.

They tilted their head. "What are you trying to say?" Their fingers trailed over his face.

This was it, the moment he had been waiting for. It had been a while coming, but he decided that he trusted them with everything he had- heart included. They had known each other so long, and he finally felt like he might be able to say those words. Herc kissed them gently. “I love you. And you don't have to say it back, I just trust you enough to pray that you won't walk away from me.”

“Herc…” they whispered, blinking quickly, as if their eyes were wet. Then they gave a huge smile, laughing. “I love you too.”

Herc felt his heart expand, melting as they pulled him into a messy kiss, laughing against each other's lips. Behind them, he heard Peggy start clapping and flipped her off. “I love you,” he said against their lips. “Love you. I've been waiting so long to say that.”

“I love you too,” they murmured, pulling away so that their hands were gracing their cheeks with touches as light as butterfly kisses. “I'll never leave you.”

Angelica cleared her throat. “While that was the single gayest thing I've ever seen, we do have doughnuts.” She held up a bag, smiling. “I’d just like to add, I've seen a lot of gay things.” Both her and Peggy looked over at Eliza.

Eliza laughed and looked around. “Where's Alex?” she asked, concerned.

Hearing her, Alex poked his head into the room. “I'm here. Hey, Eliza. Maria isn't here?”

Eliza shook her head. “Part time job as a waitress. She's working right now.”

“Oh.” Oddly enough he looked relieved and disappointed.

Angelica smiled, holding out the bag. Her eyes sparkled with sympathy. “Alex gets first choice.”

He shot her a quick smile, taking the bag and looking into it for a moment. His eyes shifted from gratitude to sadness as he took out a maple turtle doughnut. His heart twisted. _Oh, John…_ He prayed he was alright, safe, that Mark was taking care of him. “Thanks,” he said softly, realizing Peggy was watching him with concern.

“You alright, mon amie?” Laf asked, standing. “You're pale.”

“Am I?” Alex asked softly. “Sorry.”

Eliza smiled sadly, taking his arm and leading him to a chair. “It's alright,” she said softly. “You'll see him tomorrow. He's alright.”

“You didn't hear him,” Alex whispered, setting the doughnut down. “He sounded broken. Like he'd been shattered by everything.”

“I can't begin to imagine the challenges he's facing,” Peggy said, moving to his other side. “What it would be like to loose your sister.” Angelica squeezed her hand.

“It wouldn't be easy. He's probably going through the unimaginable,” Angelica murmured. “You have to realize that. His mom and then Martha? Alex, I can’t imagine what he’s going through.”

Alex shook his head. “It's not just that. His father…well, you already know. On top of that, he has to be strong. That's what he told me. Be strong for Mark. He's going to destroy himself.”

“You doubt him,” Herc said softly. “He's tough, you know this. He can survive this.”

“I don't understand why he had to be so strong!” Alex exclaimed slamming his hand on the armrest. “He should be allowed to cry, to break! Mark needs to know this, needs to grow up!”

Angelica's eyes hardened. “You don't understand,” she said firmly. “It's an instinct. Mark looks up to him, and if he falls apart, Mark will have to take care of him, see him weak. If he can keep a stiff upper lip, hold it together, Mark will. In place of a parent, the oldest has to step in, and Senator Laurens hardly counts as a parent.” Peggy wrapped an arm around her.

“It's true,” she agreed. “You rely on the oldest to take care of things. If they breakdown, you start to loose hope that everything will work out.” Angelica smiled. “You see, little siblings have the vision that big sister or brother is indestructible, a force to be reckoned with. I'd assume that John feels that and knows that he has to keep up that facade. Mark doesn’t have to be afraid if he can pull that off.”

“Alex, you can’t begin to imagine what he's going through,” Angelica said softly. “I don't care if that sounds rude because it's true. He feels like he failed, like he should have saved her, so died instead of her. I have no doubt that he’ll work through what Henry has done, but this…loosing Martha, that's going to take time.”

Alex looked up, his cheeks wet. “So what do I do? How can I help him?”

Eliza squeezed his arm, eyes gentle. “Take if one day at a time, and when one day seems to long, one hour at a time. And when one hour is too much, just take it every minute at a time.”

Alex nodded, face crumpling. He turned away, shoulders shaking. Eliza sighed. “Come here, you.” She hugged him, stroking his back as he pressed his face into her shoulder. “It's going to be alright,” she soothed. “It's all going to be alright.”

_It’s going to be alright._

 


	57. Chapter 57

George yawned widely. He hadn't had a good sleep that night, and being at school at 5:45am was not making it better. He sighed, wiping sleep from his eyes. This was going to be a long, long day. 

He stepped out into courtyard, breathing in the smell of blooming summer. The sky was blue and clear, enveloping him in warmth. He smelled salt from the ocean in a gentle breeze, touching his face like a gentle hand. It was peaceful.

“Professor?” came the voice behind him. George turned, surprised to see Alexander Hamilton there, holding a folder of assignments.

George smiled. “Hamilton, how are you? Can I help you?” His smiled faded slightly when he took in the boy’s face. He looked tired, drawn, his forehead was creased with worry and his eyes were red, as if he had been crying. “Son, are you alright?”

Hamilton looked down. “Please don't call me that.”

“I apologize.”

He cleared his throat. “I'm going to be gone for a week in South Carolina. I need two copies of the book to study from.”

“Two?” George started to walk towards his room. Alexander followed.

“One for John Laurens.” His voice broke.

George beckoned him over, concerned in a strangely fatherly way. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I wouldn't want to bother you.”

“It will be no bother, Alexander,” George insisted. “Please. If there is something on your mind, I want to help you.”

Alexander nodded slowly, letting out a sigh. “It's about John Laurens. You know that we’re…together, right?”

“Of course.” He nodded. He tried to know as much as he could about his students.

“Well, his family was having some trouble- I don't know if he'd want you to know- but he flew to South Carolina to be with his family while everything was happening…” he struggled for a moment, trying to think of how to not mention Martha. Well, screw that. “His sister died.”

George's eyes widened, feeling that forever empty part of his heart that Samuel used to occupy throb in pain. He bowed his head, sighing. That poor boy… “Oh dear God.”

“Sir?” Alexander asked, worried.

“Continue, Alexander,” he murmured, forcing his thoughts from his own late brother. “Continue.”

“After they received news of her death, his father…his father beat him. He's been doing it for years, but he wouldn't get into any legal trouble because, well, he knows how to fool the system. John called me after it happened, and he sounded broken, exhausted. I'm just…I'm so worried about him.” Alexander looked like he might cry, and it was all George could do not to embrace the boy. Instead, he touched his arm, looking over at him.

“Alexander, listen to me. You can't begin to know the challenges he's facing. He's going through a lot. If Mr. Laurens can't get into legal trouble, I'd suggest removing John from his general vicinity. Does he have any more siblings? A mother?”

“One sibling, Mark. Their mother’s dead,” Alexander said softly. “Died of the same thing Martha did.”

“Take Mark with you,” George suggested. “How old is he?”

Alexander thought for a moment. “Seventeen maybe?”

“Ah. John's the oldest?” Alexander nodded. “Poor boy…” George sighed. “Alexander, you have to be there for him. Some days are going to be worse than others, and you have to understand that. It's going to be exhausting, but it's going to be worth it.”

“I know.” He stood up, hesitating. “Senator Laurens is very, very right wing, you know.”

“I am aware.”

He hesitated again. “Mark’s Transgender. His birth name is Mary. If Senator Laurens found out…”

George nodded. God, this family had more issues that he'd thought. “Take him with you. If he needs, my wife and I have a house too big for the two of us. He can stay for however long he needs.”

A slow smile crept across Alex's face. “Thank you so much, sir. Thank you for your help, but I'm catching a plane in two hours and I really have to go.”

“Of course,” George said, smiling slightly. “Just return the book to me after you get back.” He looked through his book shelf for a moment before pulling out the books and handing them to Alexander. “Pages 253-294. Answer the questions- I'll post them on my website."

“Thank you, sir.”

“It's not trouble. Let me know if there’s anything at all I can do for you, son.”

Alexander smiled slightly, dropping his eyes at the word “son”. “Thank you, sir.” 

He left, and George sat down heavily. To loose a sibling was one of the worst pains imaginable, and he knew that. He felt a sense of protection over the boys, Alex and John. It was a strange, paternal instinct he didn't know he had. Figured. He'd never had much experience with kids before, and he was starting to wish he and Martha had adopted.

George had a free period at 2:39 in the afternoon. He spent the time aimlessly wandering the halls, not quite having anything to do or grade. He was lost in deep thought, memories of his childhood, of Alexander's tired eyes, and Lafayette's note. Oh, that note. He had told Martha about it and she had covered her mouth, embracing him. 

“ _I'm sorry_ ,” she had said softly, knowing how close this incident seemed to Riley. “ _Keep an eye on them.”_

_“I don't plan on taking my eyes off them for a second,”_ George said softly. _“Martha…they're my responsibility. I don't know why, but they are.”_

She smiled, kissing his cheek. _“You'd have made a great dad.”  
_

Loud whispers jerked George from his stupor and he froze, listening. The voices were coming from behind a stone pillar between two walls. He moved closer, quietly. There were three boys talking. He recognized their voices.

“Fucking hell, Seabury,” came the voice of Charles Lee. “You ditched us. We could have taken them down if we had an extra person.”

“I'm sorry!” came the high pitched, tightly strung trill of Samuel Seabury. “I chickened, I was scared.”

Next was the slow, crazed drawl of George King. “You failed us, Sammy. You were supposed to be there when Jefferson and Madison went down to the lot.”

George leaned in closer, straining to hear Seabury’s response. This was useful information. He took out his phone, pressing record. If this information could help Lafayette, he didn't care if he violates the privacy of his students.

“I'm sorry!” Seabury said again. “I didn't want…I couldn't bring myself to. I chickened!”

There was a sharp smack and George’s eyes widened as Lee’s rage filled voice spoke again. “Stop repeating yourself, fucking idiot.”

Someone stopped behind George and he turned, surprised to see Lafayette there. “What's happening?” they mouthed. He tried to shoo them away but they stood fast, leaning in, trying to hear.

“We could have killed them!” King said, giggling a little. “We could have killed them, we could have killed them. If you had been there,” he singsonged.

Lafayette's eyes widened and they covered their mouth, looking to George for…comfort? Reassurance? He couldn't tell. George wrapped an arm around their shoulders slowly and, much to his surprise, they didn't pull away.

“I don't want them dead!” Seabury said. “I don't want to _kill_ anyone, you're insane! I can't have my Scholarship revoked, I'd have to drop out. Even with it, I'm still up to my neck in Student Loans. Georgie, please…” He was begging. “Just let me go.”

“You know too much,” King replied with fake sadness. “We can't just let you leave. You're in here forever now.”

“Please, no…” he pleaded.

“Too late,” Lee said with a smile in his voice. “After school, the park. If you don't show, we’ll do to you what you should have done to the faggots.”

George pulled Lafayette away, into a classroom, just as King and Lee walked out and down the hallway. Then he turned to them. “You alright?”

They nodded, looking a bit shaken. “Yeah. I'm going to talk to Seabury.”

George stopped them before they started to walk out. “Perhaps I should.”

They raised their eyebrows, grinning slightly. “Who's he going to be more open with? You, the “threatening” teacher, or me, his fellow student? Doesn't matter that he hates me."

“Touché,” he said, smiling. “I'll wait here.”

They nodded, flashing a quick thumbs up before slipping off their backpack and jogging down the hallway. They could hear Seabury’s soft sobs as they approached him. “Hey,” they said softly, ducking behind the pillar.

Seabury jumped back, grabbing his backpack as if in self defense, eyes wide and wet. “Why are you here?”

They hesitated. “I heard you crying. Are you alright?”

“Why would you care?” he sputtered, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“Because I worry about people,” Laf smiled, but they couldn't shake the memories of King and Lee saying they'd wanted to kill Thomas and James. “I believe in second chances. What you did to me was horrible, but I don't intend to neglect you if you're crying.”

He smiled slightly. “Thank you, Marquis.”

They held up a hand, laughing. “Lafayette, or Laf, will do just fine. I don't use that title here.”

“Oh.” He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. In that case, call me Sam.”

“Of course. Do you mind me asking what happened?”

Sam shrugged. “It was…well, you were there at the end of it. No sense in trying to stop you from knowing. What happened with Madison and Jefferson…they originally intended for me to have a part in it. I don't want to say what I was supposed to do.”

They nodded, feeling slightly guilty for the manipulation. “I will not press. Want to go eat? I'm alone today. James is still sick.”

“Is he alright? I mean, did George and Charley hurt him badly?” For a second, Laf could have sworn they saw concern in his eyes.

“He has a fever. When they attacked him, he was already sick. He’s strong though, he'll be fine in no time,” Laf reassured.

Sam nodded. “Alright.” He gave them a small smile.

Laf smiled back and stood, offering a hand. “Come on. We don't have a lot longer left of lunch.”

“I'm starving,” Sam admitted. “Haven't had a chance to eat today.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

A pause. Laf scooped up their backpack, and made eye contact with Washington as they passed the classroom he was in, shooting a quick and discreet thumbs up. Washington smiled.

“I'm sorry,” Sam said suddenly. His voice was odd, thick.

“What?” Laf asked, tilting their head.

Sam glanced over at them. “I'm sorry about the beginning of the year. What I said. What I did. Georgie put me up to it…I didn't really mean it all.”

“He was using you?”

He waved them off. “Not the point. The point is that I'm sorry and your eyeliner is flawless.”

Laf snorted, grinning widely. “Thanks. I can teach you how to do it.”

“I’d like that,” Sam said softly. “Georgie would kill me if I did though.”

“He doesn't need to know.”

Sam shook his head. “He’ll find out. He can find out anything. Probably knows about this conversation.”

“Are you hiding something from him?” Laf asked, turning out into the courtyard. They stretched, soaking in bold sunlight. They dropped their backpack down, looking around at the other students. No one was in hearing range.

“No,” Sam said, a little too quickly.

Laf raised their perfectly arched eyebrows. “You don't have to tell me what it is.”

He ducked his head. “Yeah.”

“I knew it.” They unpacked a sandwich Herc had made them and took a bite. “What would be so if he found out?”

Sam hesitated, unpacking his lunch. An apple and a slice of bread. “He'd probably kill me.”

Laf felt cold shock run through their body. “Oh. Well, if you ever need to, you can sleep at my place. That is, if you don't mind that I have a boyfriend.”

Sam smiled widely. “Really? After what I did to you?”

“I told you,” they said smiling, “I believe in second chances.”

“Thank you.”

“It would be our pleasure.”

Sam laughed, biting into his bread. The family he had grown up with would be having strokes if they saw this. As far back as anyone could remember, the Seabury’s were orthodox Christians. They all had proper marriages, went to church, and were all types of phobic.

The way he had been taught was that gays shouldn't be allowed to marry and he must never be in or socialize with someone who was it. He was taught women were lesser and sexual, that it okay to sexualize them. He was taught that people of color didn't deserve government help, that “all lives matter”, that Syrian refugees and Muslims didn't belong here. He was taught to turn a blind eye to the issues of anyone but the straight white men.

But here he was, years later. He knew if his parents saw this, they would disown him before he could count to ten. To be fair, if they saw him at any point in his current life, they might not even recognize him.

For some reason, he didn't care because, for once, someone listened to him and was willing to help and care for him. He hadn't been taken care of by George or Charles, hadn't been treated as an equal. But he had always stayed with them, he couldn't help it. He hated why he couldn't help it.

He hated that somehow, of the course of the time he'd known them, he'd begun to start to like George King, and he hated that that was only one of his secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've gotten a few people asking what the hell is up with Alex and Maria because she was so uncomfortable with him checking her out and now they're fucking??? I'm going to *not so* quickly explain this to y'all.
> 
> Obviously, Maria is a victim of sexual abuse with, in many but not all cases, leads to not only a fear of intimacy but also a messed up sense of consent. She doesn't know how to say no. Does this mean she was raped by Alex? Absolutely not. Maria, like many (but, again, not all humans) enjoys and wants sex, but in past experiences (*cough cough* ReyNOLDS), it has been weaponized and/or used against her. She did love him at first, while he groomed her to his profit, and he destroyed and betrayed her in a way that will never be okay and never heal. She's scared of being intimate with someone she loves because she doesn't want to be hurt by them like Reynolds hurt her. Eliza would obviously never do anything to hurt her, but Maria can't take that chance so she doesn't let herself be intimate with Eliza. Alex, on the other hand, she doesn't and will never love. He can't hurt her with sex, he can't manipulate her love for him like Reynolds did. 
> 
> In the beginning, she was uncomfortable because, while Alex was not predatory, she perceived his actions as that, and she didn't know how to tell him she didn't want it. When they were drunk, a part of her that longed for the euphoria and emotional ride that can come from sex (lmao I'm asexual I don't know what those are but ya know what I sound smart when I write like that) was revealed and she did willingly have sex with him, in the process realizing she had a way to have the intimacy she wanted without running the rick of being hurt, and is getting the point where she is comfortable with the physical attraction she and Alex share for each other. He can't reveal the affair without sacrificing John, who she knows he loves, and he can't use her love for him to hurt her because she doesn't love him.
> 
> Alex, on the other hand, craves an intimacy that jacking off or stopping only a bit short of sexual contact or whatever can't give him. He has a sex drive and he wants his needs met. There is no romance between him and Maria, they have nothing in common other than the need for intimacy so, essentially, he is taking advantage of this. He can have sex, can have what he can't have with John, and there are no strings attached. Neither of them talk about it, it just happens. To him, it's just logic. John and Eliza never need to know, and he's aware this won't last forever so he thinks it won't do any lasting damage because when one of them stops it, or when Maria is able to finally be intimate with Eliza, it can end and never be spoken of again. They won't be hung up on each other because there is no attraction. It's the perfect secret with mutual benefits. A huge and flawed part of his logic is that he's doing this to *benefit* him and John. Alex won't want sex because his needs and being met and, therefore, John won't feel pressured to fulfill those needs.
> 
> Basically, Maria needs some serious therapy to deal with her past issues and Alex needs to keep his pants on and seriously reconsider his logic. Hopefully this cleared some things up for y'all and if you have any questions, let me know and I will answer them either like this or just as a reply to a comment.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	58. Chapter 58

The plane ride was hell.

It was 1:56 in the afternoon. Alex had his music on as loud as he possibly could and was concentrating on his breathing, telling himself just one more hour.

One more hour.

He had survived the first three leeching off of someone who had payed for in flight wifi’s open hotspot, but the persons computer had died and he was left without any means of contact.

He missed John so much. He hadn't been answering his phone and Alex was worried. He wanted to be able to console him, to be there for him. Everything in his life had been flipped upside down. It wasn't fair to him. To anyone who cared about him.

Locked in a mental contraption thousands of feet in the air without any means of contacting his friends. Fun.

2:34. He didn't know how much longer he could last. Do it for John, he told himself. Let him keep your head above water so you can do the same for him. But he wasn't sure he had the right to say that anymore. To act like he loved him when the affair with Maria was still going on, loosing none of its passion. He had seen her only days ago. He did love John, he knew, but it was his natural instinct to reproduce and, well, John was asexual. He had to find a different way. No matter how he looked at it, Alex knew that he was in the wrong.

He wanted to feel guilty, to say no. He assumed Maria wanted to as well, but neither of them could stop. It was a drug, an addiction. He knew she didn't love him, and he certainly didn't love her. It was a drug, it was blazing, fiery, red.

2:54. They landed. Alex stumbled off the plane, leaning on a wall for support. He was so relieved to be off the plane and sent a quick text to everyone that he had arrived. His head was swimming and his heart jumping in his throat. He looked down at the slip of paper with the address on it and started towards the gates. He hadn't brought much baggage, just a carryon. He didn't know how long he'd be staying.

The taxi arrived at 3:06. The girl, a pretty blonde, asked where he was going and how long he would be there in a flirtatious voice but soon got the message that he wasn't interested and left him alone. 

Throughout the drive, the anxiety in Alex’s stomach grew and grew, consuming him. His mind was occupied with “ _maybe_ ”s, and “ _what if_ ”s. What if John couldn't fight through this? Maybe he wasn't strong enough. Maybe Henry had broken him. What if he stayed in the South with Mark?

The car pulled to a stop in front of a park that John had instructed him to meet him at and the girl motioned for him to leave. “Your stop,” she said with a rolling southern accent, stretching like grassy hills under a blue sky.

“Yeah, thanks,” Alex replied, forcing himself to calm down. He handed her the money- probably more than she charged-and made his way up to the top of the hill.

He scanned the area around him, fear rising when he realized John was nowhere in sight. He might just be late, he told himself.

By 3:45, Alex was panicking. John would never be this late unless something had happened. Just as he took out his phone to call him, he heard someone shout his name.

“Alex! Alexander Hamilton!” At the base of the hill, John was standing, bent over a little, as if in pain.

“John!” Alex shouted, dam breaking. He was crying, smiling, laughing all at the same time.

He began to run down the hill as John ran towards him, trampling purple flowers and dandelions in a desperate dash to reach each other. They collided half way up the hill, collapsing into each other’s arms and rolling a little ways down the hill, never letting go. Alex looked down at John, who's eyes were wet and had tears rolling down his cheeks. He was grinning through the tears, laughing. His hands were gentle, despite the rough skin, brushing Alex’s hair back, stroking his face, tracing his lips.

“Alex…” John whispered. “I missed you.” He pushed himself up to a sitting position, wincing. “They can't see us from the other side of the hill.” He winced again as he stood, pulling both towards the other side.

Under the shade of the massive trees at the top, they lay for a while, kissing and hugging and holding each other. Alex quickly learned not the put pressure on John's ribs, knowing that that's were Henry had hit him, but the rage that filled him was brushed away by gentle lips, desperate eyes, and a constellation of freckles.

“I love you,” Alex murmured, kissing his forehead. “I love you.”

John sighed, snuggling under Alex’s chin. “I need you,” he breathed. “My father’s going to be taken in for questions regarding…” he pinched his lips together, shaking his head. “Anyways, the police need to get some information on him to ensure that he wasn't ever abusive.”

“I'll always be there for you.” Weak guilt stabbed his gut, but he smiled through it. Dear god, he hated himself. “Isn't that good though?” Alex asked. “If you and Mark can tell the police, then what's stopping him from being thrown in jail?”

“You don't understand,” he breathed. “Mark’s going to be taken away if that happens. He'd be going to a foster home somewhere potentially across the states, who might be as bad as my dad, if not worse. He can't take that right now.” _Neither can I._

“Okay,” Alex soothed, feeling tears choke him. “God, you don't deserve this.”

“I do.” John was silent and Alex decided not to probe. “My siblings didn't, but I do. She's gone, Alex. I haven't processed it yet, but she's gone. Just like my mom.”

Alex wrapped his arms more firmly around his boyfriend. “It's okay. You and Mark can get through this.”

“It should have been me.”

“No. No it shouldn't have. You can't leave us, all of us.”

John sighed. Alex felt his warm breath tickle his neck. “I miss her. I miss her like I've never missed anyone before. It's worse than when I lost my mother. Alex, how am I supposed to do this?”

Alex recalled Eliza's words. “One day at a time, Love. And if that's too hard, one hour at a time, and if we can't do that, we’ll live minute by minute. How should we start?”

John pressed a kiss to his collar bone, whispering against the skin. His face was stubbly, unshaven. “Minute by minute.”

Minute by minute.

The funeral for Martha was being held in two days. Leading up to it, the time dragged slowly on. Mark secluded himself, hardly ever leaving his room, Henry drank like he had when his wife had died, and was frequently in fits of rage. When this happened, Mark and John would hide in Mark’s room because it was bigger.

John snuck Alex in after his father had passed out after downing his third bottle of whiskey. They stayed in John's room, sleeping or lying in bed. That was all John had the strength for. He didn't think he would ever leave the house again, see the world that Martha had loved, had wanted to travel.

The next day was the day they had all been dreading. 

Wake up and feel the emptiness, frantic kisses following by guiding Alex out the door. Take a shower, close eyes and relax but that's not possible. Get out, sit in bed for an hour. 2:38.

Straighten the tie, brush of soft hands over the shoulders of the suit. Breathe in, breathe out. Run a comb through curls, brush them into a ponytail. Smile at the people piling through the door of the church, force dry lips to form soft words, answer the questions. _Are you alright? How's your father and sister? Do you need anything?_

Grief makes you an invalid.

3:00.

Heels clacking down the isle way, soft black dresses float around, surrounded by tall black suits. The smell of roses filling noses, soft light illuminating the room.

There's a casket in the front. No one looked at it, as if they couldn't bear to. Groups of crying people filling up the room, stone faced senators talking to each other.

3:06.

Silence falling as a man walked up, a preacher. Listen as he spewed nonsense the John couldn't believe him if he tried. The words were cold and hard, fake. Martha wouldn't want these words to be said about her. Smile through tears and applaud in solidarity as people go to the casket, peer in, and leave. Someone is always crying.

3:59.

Mark wrapped his arm around John's waist, leaning his head in his shoulder and gazing at the casket. “I can't look in there,” he said softly. “I still haven't quite understood that she's gone.”

“I know,” John breathed. “She's gone.” He felt tears run down his cheeks and he closed his eyes. It just seemed so impossible, so unreal.

“Want to leave?” Mark asked.

“Dad will kill us.”

Mark smiled tightly. “What difference would that make?”

John shrugged. It felt as if something inside him had died with Martha, and he could only guess that Mark felt the same. But this was a pain he could bear, deserved to bear. Mark didn't. He squeezed his hand. “Only fifteen more minutes left of service.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Mark sighed. “What dad said was horrible, you know that, right? You deserve life just as much as the rest of us.”

John avoided the question, looking out over the crowd of black suits and dresses. “If I could spare her life, if I could trade her life for mine, she'd be standing her right now. That would be enough.” He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Mark shook his head, not bothering to wipe mascara tears from his eyes. “I don't pretend to know the challenges we’re facing. I know there is no replacing what's been lost, and we need time. Don't be afraid, I know your strong. Let Alex stay by your side. That should be enough.”

John smiled, leading him to the door. A few guests watched, whispering as they passed. “If you see them leave, talking to themselves, walking by themselves, have pity,” an older man whispered softly to his wife.

The last whisper, words of a young woman to her friend, reached John's ears as they pushed open the church doors.

_They are going through the unimaginable._

 


	59. Chapter 59

Samuel Seabury had another secret.

It was a secret that if anyone found out, especially George or Charley, could ruin everything. It could cost him his life. It could cost him his scholarship, his friends. But it was getting harder and harder to hide it, to conceal, especially with the weather getting warmer. He knew the entire summer would be risky, but not to this extent. Pools were opening, beach trips were becoming popular among friends, meaning more and more risk factors. But he had to keep this a secret.

It was a secret that nobody knew about, nobody except one person, but she was dead now. Her name had been Beth, Beth Kingston, and they had been best friends for years, back when Beth used to be Brian, and Sam used to be Sami.

But that was long time ago.

It was 9:30 at night and Lafayette was walking beside him in silence, carrying one of his many bags of books and clothing. Sam had decided to take them up on their offer to move in with them, and Laf had come over immediately to help him with his stuff. It was commonly assumed that Sam lived with George and Charley, but they all lived separately, and now…The two had sworn that they'd do to him what they were going to do to Jefferson and Madison.

Also known as kill him.

Or something along those lines.

So he hadn't gone to meet them, decided to stay home, locked away with his phone and a baseball bat, ready to defend himself if he needed. Charley had called him, George had called him. He hadn't picked up, though he wanted to. His heart hurt, knowing that George wouldn't hesitate to hurt him. He had called Lafayette, panicking, begging them to let him move in.

“They're going to hurt me!” he whispered, flinching at every little noise, the sound of branches hitting the window, the wind whistling through trees, car horns. “Please, they're going to hurt me!”

“What?” They sounded shocked, taken aback. “Sam, breathe. What's happening?”

Sam tried to breathe steadily, unclenching his hands. Every frantic breath made him want to throw up or faint. God, he could only image how much worse it would be if he was wearing his binder. “I refused to meet them. They told me that they'd do to me what they'd have done to Madison and Jefferson- kill me.”

Immediately, Laf had demanded he come and live with Herc and them, refusing to take no for an answer. Sam agreed, albeit reluctantly, but decided to take Laf up on their offer to help him pack immediately. And so, that's where they were, walking in the dark, flickering eyes chasing street lamps and car lights. 

“Can I ask you something?” Sam asked softly, shrugging his coat tighter around him.

Laf looked over at him. “Of course.”

“When did you come out as non binary?”

“Why do you want to know?” they said, raising their eyebrows. They didn't look offended, just confused.

Sam shrugged. “Just curious.” He didn't know them well enough to tell them the secret he had been hiding since he was seven years old.

Maybe someday.

“I told my parents when I was sixteen. I had a breakdown, I suppose. Tried to drop school, run away, smoked pot for a while, tried more drugs and the sorts. There was a month leading up to it when I can't remember being sober even once. Finally, I broke down and told them. My mom…she was always open minded but even she had her limits. My father was furious, saying I did it for attention.” They looked distant, as if lost in memories. “I left. Came here.”

“I'm sorry,” Sam said softly. Another question burned at the top of his tongue. “Why America? Not Britain or anywhere else?”

They shrugged, blinking away memories. “I suppose I knew a bit of English, enough to get by, and I'd always loved American history and culture- no matter how odd it is. I could afford to come here, taking money from my savings. I suppose it was dumb luck more than anything.”

“Wow. That really…I don't know, sucks ass.” Sam smiled as they laughed, glancing over at him.

“I'm going to warn you,” they said with a faded smile framed with bright lipstick. “Nobody's going to be happy that you're here. I've talked to Hercules, and he's agreed to give you a chance. Thomas and James…they are over at my place right now, and I'm not sure how they'll react around you. I'll talk to them if I need to, but if you explain your case I'm sure they will be more open.”

Sam nodded, exhaling heavily. The heavy weight of his binder, his secret, pressed against his chest. He couldn't hide it forever, much less so when he got his period. “Thanks for telling me. And, again, I'm really sorry.” He meant it.

“It's no problem,” they said, shrugging. “You don't know what it's like to be this way- not cis. I'm over it.”

 _Oh, if only you knew._ At least he passed, Sam thought. He'd never looked very feminine, more athletically built. His only problem was his height, barely 5’7.

Throughout his last years of high school, he'd been teased about it, about his high voice, and feminine features, but no one had suspected, not even his parents, who, when he was around, transitioned into “Sami”. It had been hard, but it had worked.

Goddamn, if only he could start testosterone.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I suppose not.”

Laf sighed, shifting the box in their arms. They continued to walk in silence, eyes finding every movement in alleys and shadows. Sam watched them, their clear eyes, alert in the dark. He wondered what had caused them to be so paranoid, so alert. He huffed out a breath. It was warm out, no more curling most from his lips when he exhaled, no more frost along the grass along the sidewalks. He missed it. Back when it was cold enough to not have to wear his binder and just let a sweatshirt swallow him.

They reached Laf and Herc’s apartment at 9:56. Sam hesitated as Laf unlocked the door, stepping inside and greeting everyone with a loud, “bonjour, y’all.” A chorus of ‘hello’s greeted them, not a single word directed at Sam as he slipped off his shoes, looking around the cozy apartment with interest. 

He felt the weight of three pairs of eyes on him, and drew his arms closer to his body, as if these eyes would pick out the curve of his hip or the dip of his waist and call him on it. He smiled nervously, setting down his box of clothing next to a table. “Hi,” he said, voice small, forcing it lower.

“Seabury.” Jefferson was the first to speak, curled up on a chair with James’ head in his lap. James had his hand on his wrist, stilling its journey through his hair.

“Jefferson,” Sam greeted, keeping the frost out of his voice with difficulty. “Madison. Both of you, I-I wanted to apologize for what George and Charles did.” James tensed.

“You had a part in that?” Jefferson hadn't even attempted to disguise the frost in his voice. James sat up, leaning on him. He still looked a little sick, but less so. Jefferson wrapped an arm around him, as if protectively, like he expected Sam to attack.

Sam glanced over at Laf, trying to think of something to say. They smiled and shrugged, going over to sit on Herc’s lap and kiss his jaw. “I did,” he said slowly. “They gave me the worst part of it all, and I refused. I decided not to.”

Herc hummed, pulling away from his partner to ask, “which was?”

He closed his eyes, pushing the memories, the horror away. “I was supposed to have hot wired a car which, fun fact, I actually can do. I was supposed to have run one, if not both of you, over.” A gasp of shock rose from the three people listening. Laf simply lowered their eyes. “George instructed me to aim for James. He wanted to hurt you, Thomas, by killing or hurting who you love.”

Thomas’ hand had clenched so tightly on the air of the chair, Sam was genuinely worried he'd break it. His other hand was wrapped around James, securing him to his body. “I'm gonna kill them,” he hissed through clenched teeth.”How are they not expelled? Or in jail?”

James leaned back, kissing his nose. “Breathe, Thomas. We're both okay.” His face betrayed how shaken he was as he squeezed Thomas’ hand, bringing it to his lips. “Nothing happened.”

Thomas’ shoulders relaxed and he buried his face in James’ shoulder. “I'm going to kill them,” he muttered. “Why would they want to hurt you? You, of all people?”

“To get back at you, Thomas,” Sam said quietly. “You've ruined Lee’s father's name, and he wants revenge. King just wants to fuck with you, he doesn't have a reason. He's a madman, but I trust you all know that.” _So why do I feel this way about him?_ “They can't get expelled. King’s father is as mad, if not more so than his son. Doesn't matter with he does, there'll be no consequences.”

Herc sighed, rubbing his eyes. “This is fucking ridiculous, honestly. Shouldn't those two be expelled or locked up regardless?”

“It's going through the board,” Laf said. “They probably won't, though. Their fathers can sue the district to its knees.” They looked down at their hands.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “Washington can't help you now. The teachers know when to not get involved.”

Thomas stood up, drawing everyone's eyes. He marched right up to Sam and stood staring at him for a long moment. “So,” he said softly. Sam fidgeted with his shirt, trying to avoid eye contact. “You're living here now?”

“I suppose,” Sam muttered softly.

Thomas nodded slowly. “Right. You ever do anything, no matter how small, to hurt Laf, I will end you the same way you were supposed to end us.” He turned and stalked off over to James.

“Thomas, that isn't fair,” Herc said from behind Laf. “He choose not to do it. You can't hold that over him.”

“I'll damn well do that if I want!” Thomas snapped, leaning back.

“Thomas,” James murmured softly, running his finger through his hair.

He looked down, sighing. “Fine.”

Sam smiled slightly. He liked how connected and close everyone here was, but he didn't fit in. If he told them his secrets he could, but he'd rather die that give that up.

“Where should I move all my stuff?” he asked softly, leaning down to pick up a box. His ribs gave a slight twinge and he stopped, furrowing his brow.

“Sam?” Laf asked, slowly approaching him. “You alright?”

He nodded, looking up. “Slept weirdly,” he lied. “Where's your bathroom?”

They pointed down the hall. “I'll move your stuff.”

“Thanks.” He hurried off, shutting and locking the door behind him. He prodded at his ribs through his shirt. They were sore, annoyingly so, but not necessarily painful. He slipped off his shirt and lifted his binder.

His side looked angry, red and slightly purple in some places and he cursed himself for not investing in a larger size. But this had been a present from Beth, a last gift from her before…well, that didn't matter. It was a long time ago. And it wasn't like he could have his ordered a new one.

He felt along his ribs, deciding that nothing was seriously hurt, and put his binder back on, wincing as it pressed against bruises. He held his breath, trying not to make a sound. For good measure, he flushed the toilet and let the water run for a minute. He couldn’t let suspicion arise. Taking a few deep breaths, he unlocked the door and walked back out into the living room.

Herc greeted him, standing and gesturing him over. “Laf's taken your bags to the room. It's down the hall, diagonal from ours. Listen, I'm going to give you a chance.” His eyes narrowed. “If you don't take that, if you do anything to hurt them- and I mean anything- you’ll be out of here before you can count to ten.”

Sam smiled, stepping back. “I won't do anything,” he promised. “I don't know what Charley and George would have done to me without their help.”

Herc nodded, eyes suspicious. “I'd suggest you go find them.”

Sam nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

Herc turned to James and Thomas. “You trust him?”

Thomas shook his head. “No, but if Laf does then I'm willing to give it a shot.”

“So am I,” James said. He was still a little pale, a little tired, from being sick. “I trust their judgement.”

“So do I,” Herc agreed. “So do I.”  



	60. Chapter 60

It was 4:20, and Alex was sitting alone.

He couldn't come to the funeral service, obviously, so he was in the park where he had gone after arriving in South Carolina. The looming tree provided shade enough and the distant cries of children playing at the base of the hill were silenced as his thoughts took shape.

He was worried, worried about John and all he was going through. He had faith in him, he knew he was strong, but loosing Martha was something different, something harder than anything else. Alex sighed. Did he have the right to be concerned? After what he'd done?

Maria Reynolds was like nothing he'd ever experienced. Sure, he'd had sex plenty of times with men and women, but she was something else, something beautiful and scary. He was addicted and he didn't want to be, and he knew she was too.

Addicted, addicted to the rush of red, of lust when her mouth was on his. The way he couldn't say no, couldn't say no to her. Of course, how could he say no to her? The situation was helpless, and their bodies screamed “hell yes”. But that didn't make it right.

This couldn't go on forever, not without a tiny slip up. Perhaps John or Eliza would come home early, walk in on them, of find a single article of clothing. It was inevitable, he knew, of course it was. And he was smart enough to know this, smart enough to foresee.

“Alex.” The soft, broken voice of John Laurens jerked him out of his mind. “Alex, it’s over.”

Was it already? Alex checked his watch. 4:45. Apparently so. He stood up, shaking his head.

“John,” he breathed. “Come here.” He opened his arms and John came crashing down into them, clutching at him so tightly he couldn't breathe.

“Never leave me,” he whispered. “Never leave me.”

Alex felt tears prick his eyes as he held John just as tightly. “Never,” he promised. “You don't get to leave me though.”

John nodded into his shirt. “Promise.”

The plane ride back for him was the next day, as Alex later informed John when he snuck him back up into the Laurens residence. John nodded, saying he had to wait another two days and would spend them doing his late work that Alex had picked up.

“I can stay if you want,” Alex offered, kissing his neck as they sat on the bed together.

John hummed, leaning into him. “Don't worry about it.” How could Alex not worry? John looked exhausted, sad, pale. “I'll be fine.”

“You'd better be.”

“Are you going to be okay during the plane ride?”

He nodded, smiling slightly. “Of course. I survived coming here, didn't I?”

John smiled. “I'm giving you money to pay for in flight wifi. Text me if you need to- no, text every hour.”

“You don't have to.”

“Yeah, I do.” He turned around, wrapping his arms loosely around Alex and kissing his cheek. “Anything for you.”

Alex smiled, threading his hands through John's hair. “I'm worried about you,” he murmured. “When was the last time you ate something? Or slept?”

John shrugged. “A few days? A day?”

Alex sat back. “Go get some food.” He pushed John up. “Grab me something.”

John smiled, stretched and forced. “Sure.”

“I love you,” Alex called quietly.

“I love you.”

John came back about ten minutes later with three sandwiches, three bags of chips, three sodas, and two glasses of wine. He ignored Alex’s raised eyebrows and left to give Mark the third soda, chips, and sandwich.

“Wine?” Alex asked, sitting across from him on the bed. “Really?”

John shrugged. “I need to take the edge off of this all. Dad’s passed out downstairs.” He picked up his glass, about to take a sip when Alex stilled his hand.

“You told me alcohol makes you reckless,” he said softly, recalling that night. “Will you be okay drinking this?”

John hesitated. “It's only bad when I get drunk. This isn't enough to do that.”

“Promise me you'll be okay,” Alex insisted, touching his face. “Promise me.”

He nodded, smiling. “Promise.” Then he downed the entire glass.

Alex smiled, following suit. He set the empty glasses aside and picked up the sandwich. “I'm starving.” His throat was warm from the alcohol.

“So am I,” John said, looking unaffected. He later headed back down to get more alcohol, coming up with two shot glasses and tequila.

“John,” Alex said warningly. “This is a lot.”

John shrugged, downing a shot. “I need it.”

“There are other ways to cope.”

His second shot stilled on it’s way to his lips. “My sister just died, Babe. I need to take the edge off. Want some?”

Alex waved his offered glass away, wrinkling his nose at the smell. It reminded him of Maria. “I'm good.” He had to stay sober if John wasn't.

John shrugged, wincing as the second shot went down. “Your loss.”

By 10:10, Alex decided to take away the alcohol, seeing John's eyes starting to cloud and his movements becoming less fluid. He tucked it into a drawer before coming to sit by his boyfriend. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

John shook his head, eyes fixed on the wall, blank and dark. “Alex, what's wrong with me?”

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, concerned. He wasn't surprised with how quickly he got drunk on an empty stomach. He attempted to wrap an arm around his shoulders but John moved away. “Talk to me.”

John pointed to himself. “There's something broken. In here.” He jabbed at his rib cage. “In me. What is it?” He was slurring, talking half to himself.

“Love, you're drunk,” Alex murmured soothingly. “Lets go to sleep.”

John squinted, as if thinking, as if in pain. “Love? How can you love me?”

“How could I not?” Alex said softly, feeling his heart twisting. “You're amazing.”

He shook his head violently. “No. I'm broken. Can you not see it? Broken. Like a clock. Like a doll. Inside me.” He pointed to himself again, insistant.

Alex grabbed his hand, pulling it towards him. “You can fix what's broken. Dolls and clocks can be mended.”

“But you…you're perfect, flaw…flawless. How can...how can you love a broken clock?” His eyes filled with tears. “Love me?”

“I love you,” Alex murmured, kissing his hand. His heart ached. “Forever and always.”

John blinked, focusing. His hand was cold but sweaty in Alex’s. “What if I was dead?”

Alex's blood ran cold. “I couldn't live if you were dead.”

“What if I had died instead of Martha?” He wasn't crying but his eyes looked dead.

Alex shushed him. “Don't say that. John, you're drunk.”

“Would anyone notice if I died?”

“Yes,” Alex assured, heart breaking. “Of course.” It was getting late. 10:21.

John sighed, slumping against Alex. “My dad would notice. Wouldn't have anyone to hit anymore.” He laughed, harsh and loud. “Do you know what he did to me?”

“What?”

John lifted his shirt, revealing a rainbow of bruises across his ribs. He smiled slightly at Alex's gasp of horror. “It's not bad,” he said softly, slurring. “I doubt anything is broken.”

“Does it hurt?” Alex knew it wasn't bad but this…this was horrifying nonetheless.

John waved a clumsy hand, almost hitting the wall. “I'm drunk as fuck, I can't tell.”

Alex grabbed his hands, meeting his eyes. “You know I love you, right?”

John didn't say anything.

“Because I do,” he continued. “More than anything in this life. So if he hurts you, I will kill him. I want you to know that you are my reason for living. If you weren't in my life, I don't know where I'd be.”

And John started to cry, starting sobbing into his hands and Alex sat next to him for twenty minutes, making soothing noises and stroking his back and fighting back his own tears. It hurt so much, seeing him like this, in so much pain. He was hurt in ways that Alex couldn't begin to imagine.

At 10:46, they decided to go to sleep. John lay down, curling around Alex and kissing his neck and back. “I'm going to miss you,” he murmured.

“I'll miss you too,” Alex murmured back. “I can stay longer.”

John sighed, warm air brushing the back of Alex's neck. “I wouldn't ask that if you. I'll be fine.”

“Don't drink when I'm not there.”

“I won't.”  
Alex turned around so that they were nose to nose. He could smell the alcohol. “I love you, my Dearest Laurens.” John smiled slightly.

“I love you too, dear boy.”

The plane ride back wasn't as bad as it could have been. There was little turbulence and Alex was sitting next to a boy about his age with bright red hair. They talked a little, discussed politics, debated. It was interesting, a distraction from the fact they were flying, a distraction from the darkening sky and incoming clouds.

When the boy, who's name was Robert Morris, fell asleep, Alex texted decided to text John. He should, he knew, as he hadn't since the plane had taken off and John had instructed him to text every hour. This was the second hour. But for some reason, his hands couldn't find John's contact, couldn't click on it. Instead, they drifted further, landing on Maria’s.

_Alex: I'll be back in three hours  
_

_MissMaria: I'll be waiting_

Did he feel guilty? Of course. How could he not? But this, this stress reliever, this gratifying thing he could only have with Maria was something he needed, that he benefited from. It was in his own self interest, how could that be wrong? Selfish, sure, but wrong?

No. Yes. Maybe.

Alex sighed, looking out of the window at the darkening sky. The first sprinkles of rain fell past the window and he felt a thrill of anxiety consume him. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that everything was fine. Everything was fine.

At 6:00pm, they landed. It was raining, unusual weather, and Alex could barley muster the strength to even exit the plane. He didn't need reminders of his past right now, didn't want to think about the hurricane. He put in earbuds and blasted music as he walked through the airport, drowning out the people and sounds until he had to exit to get his cab.

He arrived at the apartment at 7:34pm, and took a few minutes to relax before sending John a quick, “home safe” text. Then he texted Maria.

_Alex: I'm home  
_

_MissMaria: omw  
_

_Alex: I'll leave the door unlocked_

She was there at 7:59, dressed in a tight, red shirt and black pants. Her eyes surveyed the scene: Alex, sitting on his bed with headphones on, staring at the wall, surrounded by papers and pens. She picked one up, feeling her heart drop. A letter to John.

_My Dearest Laurens,_  
I remember when you first entered my life. You took me by storm, capturing judgement as well as heart, and I have not gotten it back to this day. You are everything I've ever wanted, and I will always love you.  
Forever yours,  
A.Ham

Maria set it back down, backing away. Alex took out an earbud. “What?”

“Alex,” she breathed, looking at the letter. Her eyes, wide and shocked, traveled to his face. “What are we doing?”

Alex cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“John…he loved you. And you're lying to him? You charm him with false words when we soil your bed,” she exclaimed.

“I'm not lying!” Alex snapped. Maria shrank back. “I'm not lying,” he said again, softer. “I do love him, more than anyone or anything, and I certainly don't love you.”

Maria nodded. “I don't love you either. But you give me what I can't have, so I come to you.”

“Exactly.”

She nodded again, feeling uneasy. “Right. So we’re still on?”

Alex nodded. “Of course.” He stood up, sauntering towards her but stopping, from waiting for her to say something. When she didn't, he asked, “this is okay?”

A dark shadow crossed her face but she nodded, turning and pressing him against a wall and pulling his shirt open. Red began to cloud them, filling the room as she kissed his stomach, down to his waistline, as his hands knotted in her hair, guiding her head.

Down, down.

And Alex was gasping under her, hands tensing and relaxing with every movement she made and she was in control, control like she had never had with James. She felt a rush of fear fill her at the thought of him and the red began to dissipate, but she kept going, knowing she had to.

When he was finished, they were both on the bed, limbs tangled as he lifted her shirt over her head, unhooking her bra, taking his time on top of her. Desperate bodies with sex drives to match but lacking the love that made it worthwhile. She writhed, gasping and grabbing his hair and raking her nails down his back and then all she could think of was Eliza.

The red turned to blue.

Soft blue, and she could hear Eliza’s laugh and what was she doing? Why wasn't she being faithful? But she couldn't say no, so red and blue make purple and then the blue vanished. And-

And it all was red.

The blood rushing through her ears from adrenaline coursing through her body. The beautiful and pleasing heat of Alex on top of her.

Any thought of Eliza was wiped from her mind.

_Red._

_It all was red._

 


	61. Chapter 61

Aaron knew something was wrong at 7:33, when Theo’s face went white and she bolted past him to the bathroom, spewing her breakfast out into the porcelain bowl. He hurried after her, holding her hair as she retched and retched. 

“Breathe,” he said softly as she sucked in air in between dry heaves. “Breathe, Theo.”

She turned her face to look up at him, smiling with a miserable expression. “Sorry. Thanks.”

Aaron shrugged. “Don't worry about it. You done?”

She nodded, but her face promptly drained of color and she turned back towards the bowl, heaving up stomach acid. There were tears running down her face and Aaron felt worry build up in his chest, tight and constricting. “Sorry,” she whispered again.

“Don't apologize.” Aaron sat back, helping her sit up. “What happened?” he asked.

“I don't know. Must have eaten something weird.” She sighed, taking some toilet paper and wiping off her face. “Might be my period. Supposed to get it soon.”

“I'll get chocolate. You aren't going to school,” Aaron said softly. “Stay home.”

“I can't,” she argued. “Debate club today. I'm arranging topics.”

He sighed, smiling at the stubborn look on her greyish face. He loved her so much. “I'm in debate club too, Theo. Write a list of the topics and I'll give it to Hamilton.”

She sighed. “Fine. Help me up.” She pushed herself away from him and held out a hand. He took it pulling her up.

“Brush your teeth so the acid doesn't eat them,” he instructed. “I going to make toast and get some ibuprofen.”

She nodded, closing her eyes.

“You okay?”

“Dizzy. I'm fine.”

Aaron smiled, going out to make food. He was a little worried, but not overly. Theo was insanely strong, probably stronger than anyone he'd ever met. Food poisoning or whatever this was was nothing she couldn't handle. He toast popped up and he careful took it out, spreading a square of butter on it.

“Theo!” he called. “Food!”

She came out of the bathroom looking pale and unsteady but her eyes lit up at the sight of medicine and toast. “Thanks, sweetie,” she said, kissing his cheek.

Aaron smiled. “No problem. Get rest, drink a lot of water. Avoid oranges and other citric acids for now. Drink lots of water. Call me if you need anything.” He lead her to bed and she crawled into, relaxing against the sheets.

“Hurry,” she murmured. “Don't be late to school because of me.”

He laughed, kissing her forehead. “I love you. I'll drop by at lunch.”

“Love you too.”

Aaron grabbed his bag and hurried off. Theo stared after him, a sick feeling of anxiousness in her belly. For the last week, she had been having headaches and feeling sick in the mornings. This was the first day she had thrown up but it had been close. Maybe she should have mentioned that. 

Maybe she should have told him that her period should have come a week and a half ago.  
///

“You still have a headache?” Thomas asked as James winced, stepping into the sun. It was 8:58, and they were walking to their second classes, located near each other.

James looked exasperated. “Thomas, Love, I'm fine!”

“Isn't that a shame?” came a voice from behind them. George King stood, holding his bag and smirking.

Thomas looked ready to attack but James held his hand, keeping him at bay. “Why the ever-loving fuck are you here?” he snarled. “Shouldn't you have been expelled?”

The look King gave them was one you'd give to a stupid child, and Thomas felt his blood boil. “You idiot,” he said, “my father can sue this school out of existence. They aren't going to expel me.”

“Thomas, leave him,” James murmured, holding his arm. “He isn't worth it.”

Thomas turned, allowing James to lead them farther away, not far enough, however, to miss King's soft, “I should have killed you when I had the chance. I'd have liked to see that, your corpse.”

“Shut up,” Thomas gritted out.

“I'd have loved to watch that scene play out,” King giggled, sounding even less sane than usual. “Maybe I should try again.”

The world went red. Thomas pulled himself out of James’ grip and rushed at King, pushing him to the ground, drawing back his fist. Someone grabbed his arm, delivering a blow to the back of his head and wrestling him off King. It was Lee.

His head crashed into the ground and for a second, he panicked, hearing James call his name. All he could think of was that alley, that horrifying knowledge that he was going to die. He wanted to curl up, scream. But he didn't. He shoved Lee with his legs, pushing him off. But the numbers mattered.

He might be more muscular that Lee or King, but their mass was larger than his, forcing him down with punches and kicks he couldn't dodge. They rained down on him like stones, bruising and cutting. Then, as by magic, someone delivered a sharp punch to the side of Lee’s face, knocking him down. Hamilton, face red with rage, was on top of Lee, hitting him. Thomas couldn't quite make out the words he was saying but he caught John’s name and Lee’s cry for mercy.

Two strong hands pulled Thomas back, holding him steady as he swayed. Professor Washington was holding his arms, pulling him away from King, who was being held up by Professors Talmadge and Brewster. His nose and forehead were bleeding, lip swollen. Lee had scampered off somewhere and Professor Franklin was holding Hamilton by the collar of his shirt to keep him from running after Lee.

He was thrashing, trying to break free, and Washington simply said, “Hamilton,” in a commanding voice inbetween that of a father and that of a general, and Hamilton stopped. His face was scarlet with rage and blood. To the right, Thomas saw James break out in a run towards him, only to be stopped by Brewster.

“If you come closer, you'll be under suspicion too,” he warned. “Don't come nearer.” He held out an arm, blocking his entrance.

“Let me in, sir,” James begged, eyes fixed in Thomas.

“I can't.”

James shoved his arm aside, only to be stopped by Brewster again. “He's my best friend,” he begged. “I need to see him. He's bleeding!”

“It's against school policy.”

“Thomas!” James tried to push through, voice edging on hysteria. “Please! Thomas! Let me through!” he called. Another teacher tried to drag him away, Thomas couldn't recognize her face. “Thomas!” He tensed, ready to fight to get to James.

“Abigail,” Washington said calmly, “that's enough. Caleb, he may pass.”

The woman holding James let him go. “Sorry, Professor.”

“George,” Brewster argued. “We can't…this is practically a crime scene. With the other thing."

Professor Talmadge put a hand on Brewster’s arm. “Caleb,” he said softly. "Madison is already involved in that, why stop him from being involved in this?"

“Fine.” He moved to allow James to run over to Thomas.

“Are you alright?” he demanded, running his hands over his chest, his face, his arms, not caring that Washington was behind Thomas, or that they had an audience. “You're bleeding, oh god.” He wiped some of the blood from his lip with his thumb. “Thomas, are you alright?” He was shaking and terrified and Thomas knew without a doubt that he was thinking about the attack. Without a second thought, he leaned as far as he could with Washington holding him back and kissed him gently, letting the kiss linger. King gagged behind James.

“I'm fine,” he murmured, pulling away. “It's fine. Most of the blood isn't mine anyways. Breathe.”

James dropped his head. “All I thought was the attack…I couldn't think anything else.” He looked like he might cry.

Washington let go of his arms and Thomas wrapped them around James, holding him to his chest. “I know,” he breathed. “I know.”

“You didn't have to do that.”

“You heard what he said,” Thomas murmured. It had haunted his dreams, where he was running to James, pulling him into his arms, and realizing that his eyes were open but glossed over, pulse gone. Where he couldn't coax air into his lungs, couldn't make his heart beat. Dead. He shuddered.

James ran a finger over Thomas’ split lip, bringing his boyfriend’s hand up to his chest and breathing deeply, making sure Thomas could feel his heart, his breath, the warmth of his body. “Alive,” he murmured. “Alive.”

“We have to to you three to the nurses room,” Talmadge said gently, disrupting the moment. “Mr. Madison, you are free to go.”

“With all due respect, sir, I'm staying with Thomas,” James said. Washington and Brewster chuckled.

“I'll write you a pass, my boy,” Brewster said. He turned to Talmadge. “I knew we wouldn't get them apart if we let him in.”

Talmadge glared at him with no real venom. “What do you want me to say? You were right. For once.”

“Course I was. I'm always right.” Brewster beckoned James over and he warily went, giving information about his next class and pocketing the pass. They started heading to the nurses room, slowly and agonizingly, but surely. James never let go of Thomas’ hand, even when King whispered, “faggots” as he walked behind them.

Hamilton had his eyes fixed in front of him. He was walking like a king down a red carpet, shoulders back, straight spine, tall and proud, tailed by Washington. James drifted over to him, still holding Thomas’ hand. “If you excuse yourself to the bathroom, I'll give you my phone to call John. I know you dropped yours. Talmadge has it.”

Hamilton, despite hating Thomas, didn't have anything against James, and was not stupid enough to pass up such an offer. He nodded and held out a hand. James slipped his phone into it. “Password?”

“TJ3775.”

Hamilton nodded. “Thanks.”

Behind him, Washington chuckled, but looked away with a smile on his face. Once, he met James' eye, nodding as if to say, _I didn't see anything._

James and Thomas drifted away again, never letting go of each other's hands. “Why'd you give him your phone?” Thomas asked.

James shrugged. “I'd want you to call me if I hadn't been there.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He squeezed James’ hand. “God, when he said that…I was ready to kill.”

“You shouldn't have done that.”

Thomas tried to keep his voice low, but it was shaking and abrasive. “He tried to hurt you. He wanted you dead. I thought…just for a second…” he felt tears prick his eyes. “When you were delirious, you asked me if I was an angel.” He smiled slightly.

“I did?”

“Yeah. You asked if I was your angel.”

James blushed, looking down. “I'm not even really religious. I mean, yeah, my parents are, but I'm not really.”

“I know. I said I was. For as long as we live.” Thomas smiled, leaning his head on James’ shoulder. “Forever.” James kissed his cheek, smiling.

“Forever.”

Once the teacher had them all settled down in the nurses office, they started handing out bandages and wet towels. Hamilton excused himself to the bathroom and left with James’ phone. Thomas winced as he tried to scrub off drying blood. James took the towel from him. “You reckless asshole,” he cursed softly. “Let me.”

Thomas sat back, eyes warm and loving as James ran it in long, gentle strokes over the blood trickling down his forehead, his bleeding nose and lip. His touch was gentle, soft, calming. “You shouldn't have done that,” he berated again. “I swear…”

Thomas laughed. The clock read 9:17.

  
Alex closed his eyes. What would he say? 

_Hi, Love, I might be expelled cause I tried to beat the shit outta Lee._

What would John say?

_Alex, what the fucking hell?_

How could he justify what he had done?

_He threatened and tried to hurt you so many times, I couldn't bear it. He wanted to hurt Madison, and while I hate Jefferson, I have no qualms against Madison.  
_

Alex sucked in a breath and dialed. It took three rings for John to pick up. “ _Hello? Who is this?_ ” He sounded exhausted.

“It's Alex, I'm on Madison’s phone.” Alex smiled. “Miss you.” His “s”s came out oddly because of a split lip.

_“You okay?”_

Alex hesitated. “I might be in some trouble.”

“ _Alexander_ -“ John sounded more exasperated than anything.

“I beat up Lee.”

John was silent. “ _Alexander_!”

Alex winced. “He and King were attacking Jefferson. King tried to kill Madison- you know what happened- and was talking about it so Jefferson went after him.”

“ _You should have gotten a Professor, not gotten involved,”_ he berated. Alex felt annoyance at his lack of reaction and concern.

“I don't know what my punishment is, but since you don't seem to care-“

_“-I care! I think you're an idiot, that's all! I'm worried!”_

“Well you have a damn weird way of showing it!”

“ _Alex, I am not fighting with you right now!”_ John snapped, voice angry and frustrated. “ _Honestly_!”

Alex clenched his first, trying to calm himself. “See you tomorrow,” he muttered, shaking. 

" _I lov-"_

Alex hung up before he could finish the sentence.

Fuming, he turned on the water, gazing into the mirror. He had a bruise across his cheek and a slowly developing black eye. All the blood was from Lee -as if that was any comfort- except that one his lip and chin. He wondered if he'd get his scholarship revoked, if he'd have to drop out, or be expelled. That would just be the frosting on the cake.

And John…they had been fighting far too often lately. About little things; household chores, homework, stuff like that. Stuff he didn't want to fight over. It had all started around the time the affair had started, Alex realized, so it must be partially due to that. Who knows?

He hoped this wouldn't burn.

 


	62. Chapter 62

When John came back the next day at 6:27. He was expecting to find Alex there. However, the apartment was empty, a note resting on the table. John set his bag down, ready to collapse with exhaustion, and went to see what it said.

_Out studying, Love. I wish I could be here with you. Can't wait to kiss you. Can't wait to see that beautiful face again and I missed sleeping next to you. The world feels empty without you by my side. I am yours._

John smiled in spite of himself, picking up the letter and holding it to his chest. He loved this boy, no matter what fights they had. And he knew Alex loved him too, and that was enough. He set the letter down, picking up his bag still with an intoxicated half smile.

_I am yours._

_That boy is mine,_ he thought happily. _That_ _boy_ _is_ _mine_.

And yet he still couldn't get that rush a fear out of his system from that day in the library. John swallowed, closing his eyes, letting the memory surround him.

“ _Alex, it’s dark outside. It's late.” He was sitting next to Alex, who was crouched over a book, eyes scanning the pages. He touched Alex's arm lightly. “Love, you've done enough.”  
_

_Alex snapped the book shut, eyes red from staring. “John, it's not enough!” His voice filled the library but the librarian didn't bother telling him to be quiet._ _They were the only ones there. “I need to pass this, you don't understand!”  
_

_John leaned back a little. “Enlighten me,” he said softly. Laf caught his eye, tilting their head towards Alex with a worried look.  
_

_“I don't have time,” Alex snapped, opening the book again. The frustration in his voice sent chills across John's skin. “Fucking hell, I lost my place.”_

“ _You're the one who closed it,” Laf said calmly. “It's not John's fault.”  
_

_“Well, if he hadn't interrupted me, I'd still have my spot!” The absolute venom of the words seemed to pierce his very soul.  
_

_John snatched the book, looking up at the grandfather clock in the corner. “Alexander, you've done enough! You know you'll pass. It's almost midnight! You need sleep, and we won't leave you here!”  
_

_“Give me the fucking book!” Alex hissed, making a grab for it. “John Laurens!”  
_

_John placed it back in the shelf, turning to glare at him, heart racing. For the first time ever, Alex scared him, was mad at him. “Go home,” he said softly. “You need to sleep.”  
_

_“Why would you do that?” he shouted, lashing out towards him with the hand that didn't have notes clenched in them. John shrank back with a cry, feeling the air from the hand blow his hair. Everyone fell silent. Even the ticking tock seemed to fade.  
_

_“Because I love you,” John whispered, unconsciously protecting his torso with his arms, as if ready to be hit, expecting to be hit, waiting. Lafayette was by his side in moments, arm around his shoulders, eyes narrow and fixed on Alex. “Because I'm worried.” The last letters were mangled by a half sob.  
_

_Alex seemed to shrink into himself. “I didn't mean…” He looked guilty, flushed with shame.  
_

_“Mon amie,” Laf murmured to John, eyes fixed on Alex with a look akin to disgust, “come on, we’re going home.” They pulled him up, keeping him close to their side as the two of them made their way towards the exit, leaving Alex to stare after them, face dark._

_They got in a cab about 12:05. John hadn't said a word the entire time and Laf had draped their fuzzy blue shawl around him, a weak but kind attempt at comfort. “Are you okay?” Laf asked softly, wrapping a long hand around John's.  
_

_John shrugged, not speaking. He felt like he couldn't speak; as if the words wouldn't come out. Alex had lashed out at him, scared him intentionally. He shrank into himself, attempting to assume an offhand air. Laf saw right through it.  
_

_“You know he didn't mean it, right?” they asked. “He loves you.”  
_

_John kept his eyes fixed on his hands, which were shaking, and willing the words into sound. “Yeah.”  
_

_“Did it remind you of your dad?”  
_

_He nodded, feeling his face start to crumple but he closed his eyes, keeping a stiff upper lip. “Yeah. I…it shocked me. I never thought…” He shrugged, trying to pass it off.  
_

_“He should have known better,” Laf murmured. “I'd have thought he would.”_

_John didn't respond, just looked out the window at the passing streetlights, sending long artificial amber rays into the darkness. He heard Laf’s breath hitch next to him and turned to them. “You alright?”  
_

_They nodded, turning away. “It's the street where Thomas got attacked, sorry. I don't know why it's still so hard…”  
_

_“Oh.” He squeezed their arm. “Don't apologize.”  
_

_12:16, and they were at Lafayette’s place. They took him inside, apologizing profusely for the mess as they had just moved in with Herc and had yet to organize everything. Speaking of which, Herc greeted Laf with a kiss and John with enthusiasm, as they hadn't seen each other in a while.  
_

_“You can take the couch,” Laf said softly. “I'll bring out blankets. Do you mind if Herc knows what happened?”  
_

_John shook his head. “It's fine.” He lay down on the couch, eyes open, staring at the wall. His head was still reeling and every movement was a figure come to hurt him. Every shadow was his father, every sound outside. “Stop it,” he muttered to himself. “You're being paranoid.” From down the hall, he heard Herc swear and had no doubt that Laf had just revealed what had happened.  
_

_“Cannot believe this,” Herc said softly, voice still carrying. “This isn't okay. I'm gonna call Alex and talk to him.”  
_

_“Leave it,” Laf soothed. “If it happens again, he's not going back.”  
_

_“Fine. It's just…that's so out of character for Alex. I mean, he loves that boy more than anything in this life. Maybe…”  
_

_John sat up, leaning in. He strained to pick up on what Herc was saying. “Don't say it,” Laf murmured. “You know it can't be true.”  
_

_“I know. But, Laf, what if he was cheating on him?”  
_

_John's blood ran cold. He had thought about it, being as paranoid as he was, but he refused to think of it as any more than an anxiety induced nightmare._

_“Don’t say that!” Laf hissed. “He could hear you!”_

_”The signs are right there, they match up. We have to talk to Alex,” Herc insisted._

_”Not now. Go to bed.”_

_John sighed, curling up on the couch and closing his eyes. He couldn't think about that._

_Soon, the mists of sleep began to wrap soft arms around him, and the last thing he felt was Lafayette's hand on his cheek and a blanket being put on his shoulders.  
_

_Then, nothingness._

John blinked, pulling himself out of the memories before he relived the nightmare. He refused to touch upon it, couldn't bear to see Alex’s face screwed up in rage, angry, trying to hurt him. They had been having fights recently, an unspoken tension, and John wondered if it had anything to do with something he'd done.

The door opened behind him and John jumped, turning and setting the letter down. Had it already been an hour? 7:14. Almost. Alex froze as he stepped through the door. His hair was mused, a little hint of red by his mouth. John swore he smelled a hint of flowery perfume. He had a black eye and bruise by his lip and cheekbone.

“John,” he said softly.

“Alex,” John said, raising a questioning eyebrow. “You have some lipstick by your mouth.”  
Alex smiled easily, closing the door behind him. “Pegs dragged me to Sephora before we went to study. She didn't want to try out lipstick on herself so she used my arm- I'm only a little lighter than her. I scrubbed it off after getting some weird looks and getting it on some books, but I fell asleep on my arm before I washed it. Sorry.”

John let out a deep breath. Herc's words had come back to him then, “ _what if he's cheating on him?_ ” John smiled, wiping it off with his thumb, making the decision to trust him. “Not your color, Babe.” The perfume was familiar, but he just couldn't place it.

“Aww, you think so?” Alex said with a smile. “Sorry about yesterday, I was really bitchy.”

John shook his head. “Let me fight Lee next time. It's fine. I wasn't great either. I was worried.”

“I love you,” Alex murmured, squeezing his hands. “I'm not going to let you fight Lee, Love. He's strong, and I don't want you to get hurt by him anymore. I'd kiss you but my lip hurts.”  
“I love you too,” John smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You won't stop me. I’m strong too, now go ice your eye. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“I'll make soup,” he said. “Chicken?”

“Always.”

As he poured the soup into a bowl, that flowery scent came back to him. He knew it from somewhere, knew those flowers, the smell he could only describe with colors, and the color was red.

It wasn't Eliza, he knew for certain. Her perfume was blue, violets, and sugar. Calm yet striking, matching her personality perfectly.

It wasn't Angelica, who just never wore perfume of any sorts, claiming it was annoying. Peggy…who know? It could be. She changed perfumes pretty often, sometimes using Eliza's, sometimes never wearing any. It was probable that it was hers, seeing as she and Alex had been hanging out.

Lafayette only ever wore the boldest of bold, never subtle like this. John shrugged. He was being paranoid again. Herc's words replayed loudly in his mind, “ _what if he's cheating on him?”_

“You alright?” Alex asked from behind him, kissing his shoulder. His voice was soft, and John couldn't believe this was the same boy who yelled at him, who lashed out at him.

John smiled, reaching back to toy with his hair. “I'm fine.” He put the bowl into the microwave. He turned around, letting his hands rest at Alex’s waist. “I love you,” he murmured. “So much.”

“I love you too,” Alex said softly, leaning up to kiss him. “John, look at me.” John looked down, into his eyes. “You are the most beautiful, perfect, loyal, strongest person I will ever know, and I love you so, so much more than you can ever imagine. John, I can see the emptiness behind your eyes, behind your words. Don't try and push what happened behind you. You need to face it. You can't let it bottle up, I know from experience. Talk to me.”

John licked his lips. “What do you mean?”

“About your sister,” he murmured. “John, you know about my mom, how she died.”

John nodded. “Of course I do.”

“She tried to be strong for me, she didn’t let herself cry. Even when she threw up blood and when her eyes turned yellow. She never let me see her cry. She could hardly keep her eyes open those last days, but she held me and promised that everything would be alright.”

John squeezed his hand. “Alex…”

“You have taken on the role that she had. You can't go on like this, Love, because you're going to break,” he whispered. His eyes were affectionate and sincere.

“If I break, maybe my brother will survive,” John breathed. “That would be enough.”

“But it won't be. He'll be alone.”

John closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Why have you never told me that about your mom before?”

Alex shrugged. “Never had a chance.” Behind them, the microwave beeped and John flinched. “Easy,” he soothed. “It's okay.”

“I'm jumpy,” John said with a smile. “Alex, I love you so much, and I am so fucking sorry. You and your mom deserved so much better.”

Alex wiped his eyes on his sleeve, smiling through tears. “So do you. Abusive, homophobic dad, dead mom, now this. Man, we are both broken people aren't we?”

John nodded. “We might be broken, but our jagged edges fit perfectly.”

“That they do, my dearest Laurens,” Alex said with a smile, taking his bowl out. “That they do.”

“Of course, dear boy,” John replied, laughing softly. “We are meant to be.” It might have been his imagination, but he could have swore he saw Alex’s eyes darkened for a moment.

“That we are,” he said, the darkness disappearing. “Go make yourself food.”

John heaved a sigh. “Alright. I'm exhausted.”

“We’ll sleep after you eat,” Alex promised. “Ice your ribs. Are they bad?”

He shrugged. “Not too bad.”

“Ice them.” The usual concern was gone, leaving a painful emptiness. John ignored it.

“I will.” He pulled a pre made ice pack from the freezer, pressing it gingerly to his ribs. He sighed as the cold seeped into his bones.

Something hit the front door, bashing against it with heavy force. John jumped, twisting to look over at it. His ribs gave a wild shriek of pain and black spots filled his vision. He dropped the icepack as his knees hit the floor.

“Talk to me,” Alex’s voice was frantic suddenly, and John wondered if he had imagined that emptiness only moments ago. “John, what happened?”

John took a deep breath, holding up a hand. “I'm okay,” he said through heaving breaths. “I just turned too fast. It was probably just a fucking bird.”

Alex nodded. “Can you stand?”

“I need a minute. Alex, go eat. I'll be fine.” John squeezed his eyes shut, taking long, slow breaths.

“I don't want to leave you.”

“Alex, you need to eat,” he said softly. “I'll be up in a minute. You literally aren't even going to be six feet away.”

Alex nodded, kissing his forehead gently but without affection. “Okay.”

It was 7:56 by the time John finally willed himself to stand, and Alex was by his side the moment he even tried. “Easy,” he soothed, pulling John up gently. “Breathe.”

“I've got it,” John insisted softly, relying heavily on Alex. “Don't worry.”

“I'm going to worry,” he said. “How bad is it? Want to go to bed?”

“Its getting better.” John nodded. “Yeah.”

Alex kissed him. “Okay. Are you okay? You're so jumpy.”

He shrugged, neglecting to tell Alex that he had been part of the reason he was so paranoid. “Sorry.”

“Answer me, Love.”

“I love you,” John murmured. “I'm fine.”

“If you say so,” Alex smiled, wrapping a steadying arm around his waist. He didn't say “ _I love you_ ” back for the first time ever.

But it was probably nothing.

Right?


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for kinda?? Panic attack

In the middle of class the next day, Jefferson, Alex, George King, and Lee were called down to the office. A silence fell over the class room and Professor Franklin sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Alexander, you may go.” 

As he walked down to the door, whispers came from all around him, rumors and retellings of what had happened. Everyone had heard, everyone had their own story. The immigrant, the sons of two highly respected Senator, and the oldest son of a Representative had gotten in a fight on school ground. Of course everyone knew.

“I heard he broke Lee’s nose,” a boy whispered from beside him.

Alex shook his head. “No.”

“I heard Lee was unconscious,” a girl murmured, playing with her hair.

“No,” he said again; She looked down.

“I heard,” a boy muttered softly to his friend, “that Jefferson- Peter Jefferson’s kid- and Madison made out in front of the teachers.” His friend stifled a laugh.

Alex stopped, looking down at them. They froze. “That's a little more true,” he said quietly. “I'd best not go talking about it. Jefferson held off Lee and King for a while, did most of the damage.”

The boy’s faces whitened.

Alex smirked, stepping out of the classroom. He promptly met with Jefferson, exiting Talmadge’s classroom. “Hi,” he said softly. Jefferson didn't look well, his usual arrogant smile was gone, bags masking mischievous light in his eyes. He was slouching, as if exhausted.

“Hey, Hamilton,” he replied, looking down at his shaking hands.

“Dude, you okay?” Alex asked, not concerned but curious.

Jefferson paused. “What?”

“You look like shit.”

Jefferson laughed bitterly. “Oh, I'm totally fine. Full fifteen minutes of sleep last night.”

“What's up? Everything okay with you and Madison?” Alex pressed, curiosity overpowering caution.

Jefferson glared at him, but the bitterness on his face gave way to exhausted and a haunted shadow in his eyes. “Everything's fine.” He was lying.

Alex nodded slowly. “I don't want to push-“

“Then don't.” He picked up his pace, putting long legs to use.

Alex hurried to keep up. “Right. I thought I heard King say something about…killing Madison?”

Jefferson turned to him so quickly that he jumped back, ready to defend himself. Then he turned away again. “I…yeah, he did. That was the original plan.”

“Oh.” It was hard to believe anyone would want to kill Madison, the kind, thoughtful, brilliant student. He'd tried to hate Madison, but he just couldn't. “I'm sorry.”

“Yeah.” Jefferson ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, Hamilton, what are you playing at? Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Being nice. Talking to me without criticizing every word I say, without jabbing at my likeness to my father.”

Alex laughed, turning right into the courtyard. “I've realized you aren't as similar to your father as I thought. I like Madison, he's a cool guy, and I know that John knew you when you were both younger, and can't help but care even the slightest bit for you. I fucking hate Lee and King, and we've got a common factor in our hate; Lafayette. You care about them, as do I.”

“What's your point?” He looked suspicious, eyes narrowed. “Trying to reconcile?”

Alex smiled, shrugging. “Trying to get past our hatred. At least be civil with each other. I also needed to ask you something about John…did…you know his father isn't a great man, right?”

“No politician at Henry Laurens’ level ever is, my father included.”

“Right,” he said slowly. “Have you ever seen him, or has John ever told you what he's done to him?”

Jefferson nodded. “Hamilton, I was his only friend for five years, before he met Lee. Of course I know. I the question is what do you know?"

Alex tilted his head, squinting. “I'm sorry- what?”

"What do you know?”

“I know it started when he was eight, and I know it's been horrible but not bad enough to attract legal attention. I know he’ll die for his siblings, I know he's taken a beating for them.” He stopped at the empty look on Jefferson’s face. “What do I not know?”

“If he didn't tell you, there's a reason for it.” Jefferson turned left, leading them into the office where they were met with Washington.

“There you are,” Washington said, gesturing them inside. “Mr. Lee and Mr. King are waiting for you.”  
Alex nodded, smiling slightly. As the professor ushered them down the hall, he hissed, “what is it that you know and I don't?” into Jefferson's ear.

“Ask him,” he whispered. “He's your boyfriend, not mine.”

They entered a little room on the left hand side of the hall where Lee, King, and Principle Howe sat. King was still nursing a split lip and black eye while Lee sported a shiner and bruise across the jaw. Alex smirked over at him, taking a seat between Washington and Lee. Jefferson sat on Lee’s opposite side.

“Now that we’re all here,” Howe said, “we need to discuss what happened two days ago. Lee, tell your side if the story.”

Lee sniffed pitifully, touching his shiner gently. “I walk outside to see Jefferson,” he spit out the name, “whaling on George. I was worried that he'd hurt him so I got involved, trying to pull Jefferson off but he turned on me, hitting me across the face. Hamilton also got involved, pulling me away and pushing me down. He kept hitting me and hitting me and hitting me, yelling nonsensical sentences about John Laurens. It was an unprovoked attack!"

“Sir-“ both Alex and Jefferson stood up, enraged at the lack of honesty.

“Sit down,” Howe said quietly. “Both of you. Hamilton, you next.”

Alex took a deep breath, wrestling his rage back down. “When I was in the South, with John Laurens, I was informed by Lafayette that Madison had been attacked by Mr. George King and Mr. Charles Lee. Lee, having made inappropriate and highly unwanted advances on a sister of John Laurens in my presence, gave me no reason to believe that he wouldn't act out on anyone else. With his extraordinary right wing views, no doubt handed down from his right wing representative father and southern upbringing, he has a…distaste, shall we say, for the LGBT community, which we all no doubt know that Thomas Jefferson and James Madison are a part of. From my understanding, Lee and King had a plan to actually murder or seriously injure James Madison-“

“Get to the point,” Lee snarled softly.

Alex fixed him with a fiery stare. “Stop being so impatient. I'll get there when I get there. Anyways, as I was saying, murder Mr. Madison. I heard what was said moments before the attack two days ago, and yes, Jefferson hit first, but not without reason. I can honestly say that I heard King talking about how fantastic it would be to try again. As you see, Sir, Jefferson simply responded to the idea of the person he loved being murdered, dying in his arms, so to say.”

“As he should have,” Lee muttered quietly enough so that only Jefferson and Hamilton, who were sitting on either side of him, could hear. Jefferson put his head down on the table, hands fisted in his sweater, tearing at the yarn.

“Mister King,” Washington said, eyes dark, flickering between the boy he was speaking to and Jefferson, “you next.”

King's story followed mostly along the lines of Lee’s, saying Thomas had attacked him for no reason and Lee had defended him until Hamilton came along. Thomas tried not to listen, tried to remember that James’ heart was beating, his blood flowing, that he was alive. But it was so hard.

In his minds eye, images of James lying motionless on the ground, in Thomas’ arms, filled his vision, his senses. His eyes open and glossy, looking at nothing. His still, frail form in a hospital bed. An endless screaming of a heart monitor. Doctors declaring his death. A funeral, a gravestone. Life without him. Dead. All his imaginations doing, he knew, but just as frightening.

A life without him was too unthinkable.

  
“Jefferson!” Hamilton’s voice cut through his visions. He was shaking him, pulling him up. “Dude, you okay? You kinda started panicking.”

Thomas blinked, realizing that his chest was heaving, his head spinning. He was crying and he didn't want to be and he couldn't control it. He couldn't control it and he was spiraling out of control, free falling into stone. He grasped at Hamilton's arm, trying to steady his breathing enough to speak. “James,” he whispered, tasting the salt from his tears. He didn't want to cry, not in front of Hamilton. “Please. Need him.” Hamilton’s eyes softened with a calm understanding.

“Got it.” He pulled out his phone. “What's his number?”

Thomas quickly told him, trying to tame the horrible feeling in his chest, the pressure, and the imagined weight of a body in his arms. His squeezed his eyes shut, lightheaded from short and quick breaths. He concentrated on what Hamilton was saying instead of King’s snickers and Lee’s annoyed sighs. Neither Washington nor Howe seemed to know what to do, so they did nothing.

“James? Hurry,” Hamilton said, glancing over at Thomas. “No, I think he's having a panic attack. You might want to hurry.” He nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

For a few minutes, Thomas just sat there, face in hands. No one touched him but he felt every pair of eyes piercing his skin. No one did anything expect for Washington, who got up and got him some water which he could barely hold with shaking hands.  
Within minutes, James burst into the office, breathing heavily, and Thomas had no doubt he had been running. He dropped to his knees beside the chair, eyes wide at the realization that no one had done anything. “None of you know how to take care of a panic attack?” he snapped disbelievingly, touching Thomas’ hand lightly. “Breathe,” he whispered.

“I…,” he breathed, trying to clear his head. “You're alive.”

“I'm alive,” he confirmed, gently pressing Thomas’ hand to his own chest. “Breathe with me.” 

The rise and fall of his chest was steady, real. Thomas tried to match his breathing but he felt like he was dying, like his heart might give out any second, and he buried his face in James’ shirt. “I kept thinking…” he whispered. _Kept seeing you dead_.

“Sh, shhh,” James soothed. “No. It's okay. Do you need something?”

“Laf,” he begged. “Please.” James pulled away a little, kissing his forehead.

“Professor Washington, Principle Howe, may we go to another room?” he asked, eyes possessive and hard as they surveyed Lee and King, as if daring them to speak. Thomas had never seen him quite like this, cold and dangerous. “Alexander, call Lafayette.”

“If it helps him, yes,” Howe said.  
“I'll excuse Lafayette from class,” Washington told James. “Call them if you wish.”

Howe nodded in agreement to Washington’s statement. “As long as he can help Mr. Jefferson so we can get back to this discussion, he may come”.

“They,” Washington, Hamilton, James, and Thomas corrected.

“What?” Howe asked, confused.  
Hamilton cleared his throat.

“Lafayette goes by they/them pronouns.”

“Ah.”

James pulled Thomas up, letting him stay as close as he needed to. Together, they walked slowly into the nurses room. James careful lowered them both down into one of the beds, letting Thomas turn his face into his chest and take deep breaths.

Except he couldn't. Every breath was jagged and quick, gasping.

“Breathe,” James murmured. “You're going to pass out. I know, I know what it's like- having panic attacks, seeing someone you love hurt. Thomas, believe me, I've had that plenty. You need to breathe. Don't you dare pass out on me. Hamilton's calling Laf.”

“All I could see was you dead,” Thomas whispered, tears running down his face. He felt light headed, swaying against James. “You were dead. I couldn't do anything. And you were dead. Gone.” He choked in his tears. “I thought you were for a second. God, I'm so sorry for not understanding before, when I was in the hospital.”

“I'm alive, Angel,” James murmured, kissing his forehead. He tried to disregard the mention of the hospital. “I'm here.”

“What if you went? What if you leave me?” His eyes were dark and scared.

James felt tears prick his eyes. He cradled Thomas’ face in his hands. “I swear to whatever God or power or lack thereof that I will never, under any circumstances, leave you.”

“You can't promise that,” he whispered. “I promised. And I died. What if they couldn't bring you back? How could I live like that?”

James clenched his hands, pushing away the memory. “You don't get to bring that up right now. I can't deal with it. I'm not going to die, Angel. If I do, you'll survive. How could you bear to leave everyone else? Lafayette, for example. Could you leave them?”

“…no.” He took a slow breath. “But-“

“Thomas?” Lafayette entered the room, looking just as winded as James had. “Oh, mon amie.” They ran towards him, taking his face firmly in their hands and pressing their foreheads together. James stepped back, watching with slight envy.

“Laf,” Thomas whispered, “need you. Work your magic, my friend."

“Shhhh,” they murmured, slipping off their jacket and draping it over his shoulders. “Breathe.” Thomas took a shaky, but slow breath. “You know the drill. Good,” Laf soothed. “Count with me. _Un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf.”_

Thomas smiled a little, repeating the numbers. “ _Un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf._ ” He tried to slow his breathing, pleased to realize it was working.

Laf smiled, squeezing his hand.  
“Good. _Un deux trois quatre cinq six sept huit neuf._ ” This time, they sang it softly, tapping the rhythm out onto Thomas’ palm.  
Thomas repeated it, taking steady breaths, feeling his heart slowing. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Laf laughed softly. “You mispronounced the last few. Repeat after me;  _sept huit neuf_.”

“ _Sept huit neuf_.” He smiled a little at the tenderness in their eyes. His felt exhausted, and closed his eyes, leaning against Laf. He felt the bed creak as James joined them, threading his hands gently through Thomas’ hair. Soft hands, so unlike his own, cut and calloused from the fight, from holding a pen for hours and hours and hours on end, of digging his nails into his skin during speeches and debates. His relished in the touch of those soft hands, letting himself be taken care of.

“You're okay,” James whispered, kissing his neck. “I'm okay. We’re okay.”

Thomas nodded, exhaustion and calm filling him. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” James murmured. “Thomas, I love you”

Laf squeezed his shoulder. “I love you too, mon frère.” My brother.

Thomas smiled, letting his strength flee him. He knew he needed a few more minutes until he could go face that room again, before he could tell what happened. Maybe, he thought, sitting her between the two people he loved most in the world, everything would be fixed.

He couldn't give his story verbally when he finally went back to the room because his voice was still shaky. James left to back to class as he had to give a speech, much to his and Thomas’ dismay. They kissed in front of everyone before he left, making sure to say everything with their lips.

Lafayette stayed, listening to Howe and Washington talking about the consequences of their actions. When Thomas felt ill, he squeezed their wrist and they would tap a steady beat into his palm, grounding him. Hamilton watched with interest their little routine, probably not listening to a word Washington or Howe said.

When they finally dismissed the students back to class, Washington called for Hamilton to stay behind.

“Tell John I'll be back soon, if you see him,” Alex murmured as he passed by Laf.

“Good luck,” Laf muttered, waving at Washington as they passed him. He smiled pleasantly.

“Son,” Washington began as Howe left the room. He set his hand on Alex’s arm.

Alex pulled away. “I'm not your son.”

“Finding a compromise with what happened with Madison and Lee is hard enough without other people getting involved,” the professor said, ignoring Alex’s comment.

“He’s hurt John, I’ll hurt him.”

Washington looked exasperated. “You'll solve nothing, just aggravated his father and parts of the House.”

Alex smirked. “You're absolutely right, I should have punched him in the mouth. That might have shut him up.” All caution and protocol was thrown into the wind.

“Son-“

“I'm not your son.”

“-watch your tone. Laurens is not a child in need of defending, he's grown!”

Alex stepped back, glaring. “Charles Lee, George King, these bastards hurt him and other people I care about!”

“Your friends are strong! They can take it!” Washington was getting increasingly aggravated, raking his hands across his scalp.

“Well, you don't know them, not like I do. You don't know their struggles, but if you-“

“ _No_.”

Alex tried again. “-if you talked to Howe, tried to get them kicked out, we could end this!”

Washington shook his head. “Or we could be sued, and we need our money!”

“Or we could fight for what's right!”

“Us teachers need the money, son, our students need this money!”

That broke the dam, letting out all of Alex’s anger. “ _CALL ME SON ONE MORE TIME!_ ” he screamed.

Washington didn't even flinch and the silence they were plunged in to was deafening.

The clock on the wall passed 10:13. 10:14. 10:15.

“Go to class, Alexander.” The words broke the silence like glass. “That's an order from your professor.”

“Sir?”

Washington turned away. His voice was thick, almost sad. “Go to class.”

 


	64. Chapter 64

After floating around and thinking through every punishment, Howe had decided a two day suspension for all involved- except James- would be fitting while they discussed the issue of whether or not King and Lee should even be allowed back to school. Apparently Washington had spoken to several teachers and the police principal. Since the suspension enacted Thursday, the four students would return Monday, giving them “plenty of time to reevaluate their stories and tell the truth.” Needless to say, no one did that.

Thursday came and went slowly. Thomas sat at home, trying to distract himself as best he could, doing homework, reading, cooking. It wasn't working.

Whenever he closed his eyes, James’ dead body flashed in his mind and he have to sit down for a minute, forcing himself to remember it was all just a dream, a concoction of his fears.

He hadn't expected Hamilton to arrive at his house at 2:45, sweating in the heat, hair in a braid. He pushed his way into the house despite Thomas’ protests. “We need to talk,” he said, making himself at home, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

“The fuck, Hamilton? Who invited you?” Thomas snapped, thankful for the distraction. He shoved his feet off the table, grimacing at the marks they left.

“I did,” Hamilton said. “Drop the hostility. Call me Alexander, it makes it easier.”

Thomas glared, dropping into a chair. “What the hell do you want, Alexander?” The word felt odd in his mouth.

“We need to talk about John,” Alexander said, shifting so that he was looking right at Thomas.

“For God’s sake!” he snapped. “Go talk to him!”

“And say what? We aren't exactly stable right now!” Alexander retaliated.

Thomas looked at him with disgust. “Why? Cause you almost hit him?”

Alexander fell silent, looking down at his hands, clenched tightly. A clock chimed 3:00. “Where did you hear about that?”

“I have my sources.” He leaned back. “Damn, I don't have high opinions of you but that…that is out of line, especially knowing his past. Oh, but you don't know all of it, do you?”

“Tell me,” Alexander breathed, eyes furious. “God help me, tell me what I don't know.”

Thomas leaned forward, feeling the hatred radiate off of him. “It's not my story to tell.”

“You-“ A phone rang and Thomas jumped up. Already, he was imaging the worst.

“Excuse me,” he said, grabbing his phone and stepping out to the room. Lafayette. “Hey, Laf.”

“ _Mon amie_ ,” Laf said hurriedly, _“is Alex with you? I need to talk to him.”_

“Yeah. How'd you know he'd be here?”

“ _We tried every number. His phone is always on silent, so he wasn't picking up,”_ they said. _“I need him to call John’s brother.”_

Thomas wrinkled his forehead. “He has a brother? When did that happen?”

“ _He's…he's trans. I'm ordering a binder during break, I need to know his measurements.”_

“Oh, sure. I'll give you to him.” Thomas covered the speaker. “Hamilton, get your ass over here!”

Alexander walked over to him, holding a hand out for the phone. “Laf?”

“Yeah,” Thomas said, handing it over. He went back into the living room, listening Alex reciting the number from memory and talking.

On the couch, Alexander’s phone buzzed. Thomas leaned over against his better judgement to look at it.

_Miss Maria: I'll be free 5-6  
_

_Miss Maria: I know it isn't a lot of time but it's all I can set aside  
_

_Miss Maria: I feel bad about this Alex_

Thomas furrowed his brow, wishing he could take a picture of the texts. He tried not to jump to any hasty conclusions, thinking through what she could mean by those words. Study time, homework, going to get a friendly dinner as friends. None of them worked. He shrugged, deciding to keep an eye out for any behavior and, if it came to it, talk to John.

John Laurens was a mystery. He wore his emotions plain as day yet there was something hidden and secretive in him. His smiles and words masked the unimaginable agony he carried with him. The death of his mother, his sister. The abuse of his father. Thomas wondered who else knew what he knew about John, knew what he only knew because he had been there.

John had been maybe five or six when Eleanor Laurens had died. Eleanor had never been very healthy, much like James, constantly having migraines or sick. Often, she hallucinated or heard voices. It was the product of an immune system and mind ravaged by drugs and alcohol in her teens and early twenties, and genetics. After she had John, her drug abuse got worse and worse, and she frequently had fits. After the first miscarriage, a year after John, she quit. She tried to live the life that would be best for her kids but, alas, after Mary- or Mark now- she started to drink.

The kids, and Thomas (who was over frequently, with their fathers being colleagues), didn't understand what was going on, with Mark being only two and a half at most. One day, she sent Thomas home, screaming to Henry that the devil was in her home and trying to possess her babies. What happened next wasn't John's fault, but Henry founded it easiest to blame him.

Six year olds don't know what it means to hate, don't know the impact of their words, and John had screamed at her that he hated her for sending Thomas home. He screamed that it wasn't fair and that she didn't love him.

That night, in the middle of winter, she’d dressed in the dress she wore on her wedding day, gone out to the forest that used to be out their house- Henry had burned a lot of it after her death- and drank bottles and bottles of various alcoholic beverages. Her heart gave out and she died there, alone, surrounded by her demons.

The next day, Thomas came back and he and John decided to play explores, toddling on fat little legs to the trees, set on a mission to claim the forest as their own nation and make the woodland animals their friends. Thomas would never forget when they found her, not would John.

Her eyelashes were frosted white, her hands and feet and lips blue from the cold. She had been barefoot and blood dripped in stark contrast to the white frost from her feet, cut from rocks and bark. So many bottle lay around her, spilling frozen content into her white dress, staining it brown with demons. Her eyes were almost frozen over, brown glazed white from the cold. In a stiff hand lay an old Polaroid photograph of John when he was a tiny baby. Snow colored the world around her body white, blending her dress into the ground. Had it not been horrifying, it would be beautiful.

The moment they found her was seated into his memory, and even more so into John's, who screamed at the sight of his mom’s frozen corpse. He screamed and fell back, scrambling away. He screamed and Thomas started screaming, pulling them both away from her. He screamed until his face was purple, until Henry came running. And then he collapsed next to his wife, holding her body up, trying to rub life into her white cheeks.

By the time the police came, Thomas’ parents had pulled him away from John, who was crouching in shock only feet away from his father, face as white as him mom’s dress. Everything that happened was a blur. His mother's hands pulling him away and leading him to the car, seeing John the next day with empty eyes and a darkness shadowing his young face. That darkness had never fully left.

“Thomas?”

He looked up, jolting when he saw Alexander holding out his phone. It was nearly 3:30, the phone read. He smiled and took it.

“Thanks. Laf got the number?”

“Yeah.” He lay back across the chair opposite Thomas. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Tired.”

Alexander sighed. “Still not able to sleep?”

Thomas shrugged. “Nope. Every time I close my eyes, it's all I see- him dead.” It was very unsettling to have such a real conversation with him, and he didn't like it.

“I know the feeling,” Alexander admitted.

“Really? Enlighten me.”

He shook his head. “I’d prefer not to.”

Thomas nodded understandingly. “Ah. Why are you still here?”

“I've told you,” he leaned forward, “I want to know what you know about John.”

“And I've told you, no.” He sat back, eyes lazily scanning Alexander, like a cat. “He hasn't told you, he doesn't want to know.”

“I'm his boyfriend!” he snapped. “You two knew each other years ago but don't talk. Why are you more deserving that I?” 

Thomas felt annoyance bubbling in his chest. “I was there when it happened,” he said with a smirk. “I was there to try and help John, and I didn't want to leave him but I had to. You might not like me, Alexander, but I never- would never- lay a hand on him, or even act like I would.”

“Don't play like that,” he breathed, rage burning in his eyes. “Don't use that against me.”

“Why? Cause it happened a week ago we should all be over it? That's not how humans work! Not you, not me, not John. Especially not John. Talk to Lafayette, ask them what he did when he went home with them, or did you even care to notice?”

“Of course I noticed! I felt like hell afterwards.” He was clenching the chair so tightly, Thomas thought he might break it. “I'd undo it if I could.”

“Do you love him at all?” Thomas shouted, furious at his excuses and self centredness.

Alexander looked like he had been slapped in the face, eyes wide and shocked. “Of course!” he shouted. “What kind of person do you take me for?”

“The kind I hate,” he snarled, hatred pressing into his chest, constricting him. “The kind that needs to know everything, the jealous type, the type that uses and throws away and right now, your little “toy” is starting to break. How long is it gonna be until you throw him away?”

Alexander looked affronted. “How dare you? I love him more than anything in this life! I will choose him over myself every fucking time!”

“Well, you have a fucked up way of showing it, don't you?” he snapped. “If you want to know so badly, this what you're going to go do: walk up to him and ask him! Ask him about his mother, ask him about me, and if he doesn't tell you, leave it be. If he does, give him everything he needs because it's going to take a lot to tell you. Be there for him like I was. Don't let him go.”

Alexander’s eyes widened and he smiled slowly. “Oh my god,” he said.

“What?”

“Oh my god!” he repeated, laughing.

Thomas glared at him. “What?” he said, annoyed.

“Did you…” he snorted, “did you like him? Did you have a crush on my boyfriend?”

Thomas felt his face go scarlet and he clenched his fists. “It was a long time ago.” Ah yes, his bisexual awakening had been John fucking Laurens. He had been maybe 13.

Alexander doubled over, eyes tearing up. “I'm dying!” he choked out. “Call an ambulance.”

“I swear, if you breathe a word of this to anyone, and I mean anyone, I will tell everyone what happened today.” His face was scarlet, burning through his dark skin. He tried to sound serious, but he was smiling just a little.

“Promise I won't tell anyone,” Alexander snorted. “Oh, this is amazing!”

Thomas shoved him towards the door. “ _Out_. It's time for you to leave,” he insisted. “Goodbye.” He slammed the door behind him and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Oh dear god.”

It was 3:46. Thomas picked up his phone, sighing. Hesitantly, he dialed John's number and pressed call. It only took six rings before he picked up, sounding tired and a little wary. “Thomas?”

“John,” he answered, smiling a little. “Your animal of a boyfriend came to my house and refused to leave.”

“What the fuck? Are you kidding me?” he exclaimed. “I can't say I'm entirely surprised. What did he want?”

Thomas bit his lip. “He asked me if I knew about you and your father.”

“Yeah?”

“I said I probably knew more than he did.” He paused, listening to John breathing. “Can I ask why you never told him about your mother?”

John sighed. “I don't know. I don't…don't want to burden him. Thomas…?”

“Yeah?”

“He's been acting weird lately. I'm worried.”

Thomas closed his eyes, remembering the texts. “Why tell me this?”

“You're my oldest friend- even if we aren't anymore. You used to know me better than I knew myself.”

He laughed softly. “I always knew you were gay.”

“Really? What gave it away?”

Thomas snorted at the amused tone. “Uh, your dad telling mine that you were “too closely wedded in his studies to care for the presence of a woman”? What didn't give it away?”

John laughed, the tenseness in his voice leeching away. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, remembering the days when they'd sit in trees and run through the yard. “Well, I have to go. I kinda miss this.”

“So do I,” John said softly. “I don't think I'm going to tell him.”

“Then don't.”

“Thanks,” he said. “If I see James, I’ll tell him I talked to you. He was worried.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “He's always worried.”

“And you aren't?”

“Touché, Laurens.”

“We’ll talk some other time, Jefferson.” He hung up.

Thomas sighed. Dear god, he was worried. About John, about Alexander, about James.

It felt as if he could crumble under the stress of it all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!


	65. Chapter 65

Theo had to sneak out one day while Aaron was working at the Supermarket to buy a test. It had been a while coming, and she had little doubt at this point that she was pregnant. She had not gotten her period still, despite it now being pretty damn late.

She'd ridden her bike, preferring that way of travel, and gone to the nearest store, scanning the isles. Finally, she found them. Her heart started to pound in her ears. Dear god, she wasn't ready to be a mother, but she didn't want an abortion. She wondered if Aaron would be mad.

Maybe.

Theo took a deep breath and picked up a few- just to be sure- of the best quality there, and headed to the check out. She looked around the store, making sure there was nobody she knew, and waited in line. The woman in front of her had a little daughter on her back and Theo felt her heart melt as the girl smiled at her. Theo smiled back, waving.

The line moved slowly, giving her more and more time to start panicking. She was going to be terrible mother, absolutely awful. She didn't inside the first thing about raising a kid. “Shut up,” she muttered. “You don't even know if you're pregnant yet.”

The cashier called her up and she set the tests down, ignoring a huff from an older man behind her. “Baby on the way?” the cashier asked with a smile.

“Maybe,” Theo responded. “Not entirely sure yet.”

“Know who the father is?”

Theo nodded. “Yup. Been together a while now.”

“Hopefully it stays that way." Theo could bear the skeptism in her tone. "You in college?”

“Yes, ma’am. Engineering.”

The lady smiled sadly. “We’ll see how long that last if you're pregnant. Baby takes up all your time.”

Theo paid quickly and ran off, grabbing her bike and pedaling as fast as she could so she'd be home before Aaron. So she'd have time to take the tests. So she'd have time to process the results.

She was home around 6:43 and put her bike away. Aaron's shift ended at 7:00. She locked her bike up and jogged up the stairs, conscious of every single breath she took, of the body that could be harboring a baby.

A baby.

Oh dear god. A baby.

She tried to convince herself not to freak out, cause she hadn't even taken the test yet. She might not be pregnant. Maybe. Probably not. At least she wasn't still with Jack. Thank God for that. Who knows what he would have done, especially with the baby not being his.

Gathering all her strength, she went into the bathroom to take the test. It was 6:47. She waited for the results. 6:48. The minutes ticked on slower than ever. 6:49. Aaron would tell her to be calm, to relax, that patience is a virtue. 6:50. She took a shuddering breath and picked up the test from where it was lying on a tissue on the counter, mentally preparing herself to look.  
P

ositive.

Mother _fucker_.

She had expected it but wasn't quite processing what she was seeing. Wasn't sure what she was seeing. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. There was no way. But all the factors added up, all the factors spelled it out. She was going to have a baby.

The laugh she let out was torn, almost crazed. She couldn't believe it. Oh god. Oh god. She was going to have a baby! “Oh fucking fuck,” she said out loud. “I'm pregnant!” There wasn't immense happiness or disappointment, just the numb state of realization and wonder.

For a long, long moment she just sat on the toilet, staring at the positive sign, wondering how this could be. They always used protection, always were careful. They had never planned for what would happen, what they'd do if they got pregnant. Well, they'd have to start.

Slowly, she stood, making her way over to the couch. The minutes passed slower than they ever had before as she waited for Aaron to come home. Her anxiety built, growing more and more by the second. She took out her phone, searching, “ _how to tell your boyfriend about an unplanned pregnancy._ ”

_Facing an unplanned pregnancy can be scary; there are so many uncertainties. Your plans for the future are suddenly in question. What will you do? Where can you turn? What is the best option for you and your future? What is the best option for your child and their future?_

Not helpful. She closed the tab and leaned her head back against the couch. “It's going to be okay,” she tried to convince herself. “It's going to be okay.”

At 7:16, Aaron unlocked the door, looking exhausted. “Hey,” he said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I've got a shit ton of work so we’ll have to cancel movie night.”

Oh. Right. They were supposed to watch The Shining tonight, just some time to themselves. “Of course,” Theo said, smiling. He turned away. “Wait.” Her voice stuck in her throat. This was it.

“Yeah?” His eyes darkened with worry as they took in her face, anxiety ridden and almost scared. “Theo?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

She swallowed, taking his hand. “Aaron, I…I'm pregnant.”

Aaron didn't know what he expected her to say but it certainly wasn't that. She was pregnant? How could that be? He stood there, frozen for a solid minute, trying to process. “Oh my god.” Slowly, a smile split his face. “Oh my god! Theo, we’re having a baby?”

The tension lifted from her face. “Yeah! Yeah, we are!” She started laughing and he knelt down, pulling her into his arms. “I'm pregnant!”

“I'm gonna be a father!” He looked like he might cry from happiness and Theo wiped away a tear from her eye, her hands resting on her stomach. Aaron's face suddenly dropped and he rested his chin on her forehead. “How long have you known?”

“A week, a little more,” she admitted softly.

“Theo, you should have told me.” He didn't sound upset, didn't sound frustrated or even shocked. There was just excitement. 

She squeezed his hand. “I started suspecting about a week ago. I still didn't know.”

“You should have told me.”

She smiled against his chest. “I'm not sorry. I knew I needed to know for sure. I took the test today and it came out positive.” Her heart seemed to swell, struck yet again with the realization that she was carrying a baby. The happiness that had been lacking when she first saw the positive sign was pouring into her, filling her with warmth. “I didn't know if you'd want to keep it.”

Aaron pulled back, looking down at her with a soft expression. “It wouldn't be my choice to make, would it? I'm not going to be carrying it. If you didn't want to keep it, I wouldn't make you. If you wanted to, I wouldn't make you get rid of it. I'm only worried that…I mean, we’re so young…”

“The cashier thought you'd leave me when I told you- she didn't say it but I could tell she was thinking it. I've read stories about it,” she admitted softly. “I couldn't survive being a single mom.”

Aaron's face seemed to melt and he knelt down in front of her. “I swear I will never leave you. I don't…this is really, really unplanned, but if I had a ring, I'd give it to you right now as a promise. A promise that one day, I will ask you to marry me.”

Theo felt her heart melt and tears prick her eyes. “Oh my god!” she whispered, heart exploding with love.

“Do you like that promise? Should I make it?” He was smiling, knowing exactly what she'd say.

“Fuck yes!” she said, laughing through tears of pure joy. “Oh my god, I love you so much!” He picked her up and swung her up onto the couch and she squealed with delight.

“I love you too,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “Darling, you will make the most amazing mom.”

“And you will be the best dad,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him. “This might be the happiest day of my life so far.”

“I agree.” He nuzzled the side of her face, smiling against her skin. “Is this information going public?”

She shrugged. “Don't know. You have a preference?”

“No.”

“I think we’ll keep it small them. The Schuyler’s, maybe Maria.” Her smile faded. “I'm so glad I broke up with him.” No need to clarify who.

Aaron nodded. “Thank god,” he said softly. “I couldn't risk putting you in danger. We should probably schedule an appointment to check up on the pregnancy.”

“Do we need to?” Theo asked. “I have no idea how this works.”  
He shrugged. “Me neither. We can call…who can we call? Your mom?”

“Maybe. It might be worth a go.”  
He started to get up to grab the phone but she pulled him back down. “Later,” she whispered, kissing his neck.

“Later,” he agreed, smiling.  
  



	66. Chapter 66

It took nearly three days before Alex finally approached John about whatever secret he was hiding. It was Saturday, 7:48.

They were eating canned soup and waffles around their little table. Alex still winced every one and a while when he hit his split lip with the spoon. John stirred his around, picking at the waffle.

“John?” Alex asked softly, eyeing his hardly touching food.

John's head jerked up, brow furrowed. “Mm?”

“Are you not hungry?”

He shrugged. “Not really. I just haven't had much of an appetite lately. Since coming back from the South.” He'd been holding everything in, Alex knew, supressing any and all pain.

“Do you want to talk?”

“I'm fine.” He bit a piece of the waffle, sighing and dipping it into syrup.

Alex raised his eyebrows. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Jefferson told me that there was something about your…your mom, something you didn't tell me.” 

John felt his heart stutter and he looked down. “Why would he say that?”

“Please don't lie to me.” Those words were not a question.

John set his spoon down, refusing to look Alex in the eye. “Babe…”

“There is something?” he asked. “To confirm what I was told?”

“Yeah,” he said slowly.

Alex leaned forward. “What is it?”

John shook his head. “I'm sorry.”

“I told you about my mom. This is the least you can do for me.”

John's head snapped up. “You chose to tell me about her! I'm choosing not to tell you about my mother!” Alex raised his hands in surrender but John flinched away. “I can't talk about it, and I’ve tried.”

“John,” he soothed, “I’m not going to make you tell me, but why not?”

He looked away, visions of his mother’s frozen corpse pressing into the edges of his vision. “It's not that I don't trust you, but…”

“But?”

“I don't want to know what you'll think of me if I told you. What happened…I'd rather have it have happened nearly any other way. It was horrific, scaring.” He took a sip of water.

Alex laughed sadly. “Love, my mom died in my arms when I was twelve. If you're worried about me, I can handle it.”

For some reason, that rubbed John the wrong way. He knew that it must have been awful but…but he'd have rather been there when she died than find her the state she was in. “Fine!” he snapped, loosing control of his temper. He pushed his chair back, standing. “You want to know? She was frozen! She went out into the forest when I wasn't even six fucking years old with bottles of alcohol and drank until her heart gave out, and the next day, Jefferson and I found her. Her hands and feet were blue and she was half buried in the snow. Her eyes were still open and they were fucking frozen over and she was holding a picture of me when I was a baby. There were tears frozen on to it!” He felt his eyes start to dampen. “Do you why she did that? Because of me! Because I told her I didn't love her and that she was horrible, she went into the woods and drank her life away and left her body for children to find! And you know what happened after that? My dad flipped! He blamed me, blamed it all on me, and that's why he hates me so much, because I killed the only woman he had ever loved and I robbed my baby siblings of a mom and so Mark never knew her and Martha-“ he choked on her name. “Martha had only the faintest memories of her. I’m the reason my family is the way it is- because I caused my mother to go fucking kill herself! Don't fucking compare our experiences because, as traumatic as it might be, at least you didn't fucking kill your mom!” He finally looked over at Alex, afraid of what he'd see. It was 7:59. He collapsed back in his chair. “If it had been me instead of her, maybe my dad wouldn't be the way he is, my sister would be alive, Mark would have his hormones!” he choked.

Alex had his hands over his mouth, eyes wide with shock. “John…” he whispered. “Oh Lord, I had…I had no idea.” He stood up, kneeling beside John's chair and taking his hand. “Are you okay?”

John wretched his hand away. “Leave me alone,” he whispered. “Can't do this right now, not with these memories in my head.” He stood up. “I'm going out for a while.”

Alex watched after him. “Be safe,” he murmured, not sure if he heard him. “Call when when you're heading back.” John picked up his shoes, and slammed the door behind him. The house felt too small, to quiet. 

After what he had just heard, Alex needed a distraction. He had had no idea that his mom had died like that, that John had found her buried in the snow. It was horrifying, made him sick to his stomach. He pulled out his phone, hand hovering above Maria for a moment. It would be easy to forget when he was with her, her body better than any drug. He shook his head, hitting Laf’s number instead.

Four rings.

_“Alex?”_

“Hi, Laf,” he said with a smile. “What are you guys doing?”

There were voices in the background. _“Spa night. You can join. The Schuyler’s and Maria are here. Seabury and Theodosia are here as well, and I don't want fighting.”_

“Theodosia?” The name was unfamiliar.

“Burr’s girlfriend. She's a major in Bio Engineering, really smart.”

“Sounds great,” Alex said. “I'll be there.”

_“Will John?”_

Alex was silent for a moment. “He’s…he went out. I'll come.”

_“Oh,”_ they said softly. _“We’ll be waiting. I'm sending Herc to get you. We've got face masks and pizza.”_  
Alex laughed, trying to sound

cheerful. “Can't wait!” He hung up, running a hand through his hair. He went to their room, searching through his drawers. He took out that little leather notebook he had written in back when they had started dating and left it out on the table, signing with, “yrs forever.”

He slipped on his jacket and shoes, stepping outside. “John?” he called, wonder if he was maybe in earshot. “John Laurens?” Nothing. Alex sighed and sat down on the steps, fidgeting with his phone, wondering if he should call.  
This wasn't fair, wasn't fair that they were falling apart like this.

8:13 and Herc pulled up, waving him into the car. “Long time,” he said with a smile.

“Hi,” Alex grinned. “Spa night? Really?”

Herc laughed. “Everyone’s mad stressed. Spring break’s in two weeks and the teachers are piling on homework.”

“Oh, I know,” Alex said with a sigh. “I've only written sixteen pages for Washington, haven’t covered half the topic.”

“Jesus, Alex,” Herc said, looking over at him incredulously as he backed out. “Take a break.”

“That's what I'm doing right now.” He decided not to add that he wasn't stressed because he'd been having sex nearly ever other day. “What does Laf have planned?”

Herc shrugged. “Beats me. Honestly, I have no idea. They've been eating pizza basically the entire time. I spent almost my entire paycheck on it, but they're gonna pay me back.”

“Wow.” He glanced out the window. “Seabury’s here?” There was a hint of venom in his voice.

“Chill, Alex. He's on our side. Lee and King threatened to kill him cause he didn't want to kill Madison.” Herc shot a half glance at him, on side of his face amber from the streetlights.

Alex sighed. “Still can't believe they tried to kill him. I might hate Jefferson, but Madison…he's always so kind and quiet.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I feel bad for Jefferson.” He cleared his throat. “Can't imagine what it felt like. Well, I guess, actually...” 

Alex nodded, hitting his cheek. “Yeah. Hey, how are you guys doing?” _Hopefully better than us_.

“Laf and I?” he asked, tilting his head towards the window. “We’re good.” He smiled fondly and Alex felt a pang of jealousy.

“That's good.” They drifted into a comfortable and easy silence, watching out the window as Herc pulled up to their apartment. It was 8:20.

When they opened the door, Alex was bombarded with Beyoncé’s voice blasting from the speakers and the smell of pizza. He blinked into the sudden purplish light (Laf had draped a scarf over the lamp), and saw the Schuyler’s sprawled out across the floor, wearing green face masks and eating pizza, Laf painting their nails gold with a grey mask on, Samuel Seabury sitting in the corner on his phone, looking very uncomfortable with a black mask. There was an unfamiliar girl talking with Peggy. Alex assumed she was Theodosia.

Maria looked up in surprise, eyes flashing alarm as she saw Alex. Thankfully, no one could see her discomfort through her red mask.

“Mon amie!” Laf shouted, leaping up. “Join us. What mask would you like?” They gestured to the long line of bottles and creams behind Eliza. “Oh, I don't believe you and the lovely Miss Theo have met?” He gestured to the unfamiliar girl who gave him a glowing smile. Come to think of it, she was radiant, glowing.

“Hi,” she said softly, sticking out a hand. “Theodosia. Please call me Theo.”

Alex shook it, smiling. “You don't prefer ‘the lovely Miss Theo’?”

“Surprisingly no.”

“My name’s Alexander Hamilton. Call me Alex.” He already liked her

Herc laughed, pushing Alex aside as he approached Laf. “You started masks without me? I'm hurt.” 

“Oh, mon cher, I apologize,” Laf said with a dramatic flourish, kissing him deeply. “How can I redeem myself?”

“I have a few ideas,” Herc murmured.

“Anyways,” Angelica cut in, grinning, “moving along. Laf, are you drunk or high or something?”

They shook their head, laughing. “I'm running on seven cups of coffee, an hour of sleep, a crushing fear of failure, and anxiety. No drugs needed.”

“Actually same,” Maria said, rolling over to look at Eliza. “So many assignments.”

“A toast to the end of our lives,” Laf sang. They glanced over at Alex. “Right, face masks.”

“What type do you recommend?” he asked, avoiding looking at Maria.

Eliza handed a bottle up to them. “This is my sisters and my favorite,” she said with a smile. “Moisturizing and deep cleaning.”

Alex smiled, feeling a weight in his chest. Here he was, facing the kindest person he knew, who happened to be dating Maria. “Thanks,” he said, taking it. “I need to tie my hair up.”

“I can braid it,” Peggy offered, and her eyes looked so excited at the prospect, he just couldn't refuse, so five minutes later he found himself with expertly Dutch braided hair and a green mask on.

“Hey, Laf,” Angelica said, looking up from her phone, “you got wine?” Peggy looked up excitedly.

“A little,” they said with a smirk. “Interested?”

Angelica sat up, throwing her hair back. “Bring it on.”

“No,” Eliza cut in, eyes sharp and protective. “No. No. Absolutely not.”

“Buzzkill,” Peggy whispered to Maria, who laughed.

“Come on, 'Liza,” she said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Just a little.”

Eliza shook her head, failing to keep a straight face. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Just a little?” Maria asked, draping an arm around Eliza and kissing her cheek. “Come on, 'Liza. We won't let Peggy have any.”

Eliza sighed, sending a helpless glance over to Herc who shrugged, as if to say “ _you're on your own._ ” She sighed. “A quarter of a glass for everyone but me. Peggy, you get orange juice.”

Peggy threw her hands up and followed Laf into the kitchen, muttering under her breath.

“Get me an orange juice too,” Theo called after them.

In an attempt to break the silence the fell, Angelica turned towards Alex. “Where's John?”

Alex shrugged, trying to play off the dark look that passed across his face. “He went out. We had a stupid argument.” No entirely untrue. Maria picked at her mask.

“Everything okay?” Eliza asked.

“It's fine. It was about school.”

“Hey, guys” Lafayette asked, slipping back into the room. They were carrying a bottle of red wine and two glasses of orange.

Without another word, they uncorked the bottle and took a long, deep drink of the wine. Eliza looked like she wanted to snatch it out of their hands and Angelica looked like she was about to ask for it after him.

“Same, Laf,” Maria said, slowly peeling off her mask. “This shit hurts to get off.”

They smiled at her, slowly pouring out the wind into separate glasses. “I warned you that that one takes off a layer of your skin with it.”

“And I didn't listen.”

“As usual,” Eliza said with a fond look. Alex turned away, looking at  Seabury. He looked immensely uncomfortable.

“Hey, Theo,” Peggy said, “no wine? What's up?”

She grubbed, shrugging. “I can't have it right now.”

Peggy furrowed her brow. “Can't have it? Why?” Theo lowered her eyes, smiling. Peggy’s eyes widened and she gaped, open mouthed, for a second. “Are you- are you pregnant?” she half shouted.

The smile on Theo’s face explained everything. “Not far along. We aren't entirely sure when…but I tested positive!”

Eliza laughed, pulling her into a tight hug. “I'm so happy for you and Aaron!” she exclaimed. “Congratulations!”

Angelica pulled Eliza away, smiling. “Nice!” she said with a wide smile, clearly happy for her friend. “That's…wow…it's amazing.”

“Thanks,” Theo said with a gracious smile.

“How long?” Herc asked.  
She shrugged, smiling. “Don't know. A few weeks.”

“I am assuming the child is going to be named after me,” Laf announced loudly, holding up their glass of wine, as if to toast.

Theo laughed. “Oh no, they're gonna have even more names!”

“Is that possible?” Alex joked. “Congrats to you and Burr, by the way! That's fantastic!”

“Alex, don't test her,” Herc said. “She'll name the poor kid Theodosia Marie‑Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette de Aaron Peggy Eliza Angelica Maria Burr just to spite you.”

“The saddest thing is that she'd actually, like, actually, do it,” Maria said with a smile, slinging an arm around Theo. “I'm so excited for you!”

From the back of the room Samuel Seabury said, “congratulations,” very quietly.

Theo laughed, looking around at everyone. “Thank you guys so much. I love y’all.”

“We love you too,” Eliza said, eyes impossibly sweet.

Laf cleared their throat. “Well, Maria and I promised to do each other's makeup so…” A clock somewhere declared the hour up. Alex assumed it must be nine.

Eliza raised her eyebrows at Maria, giving Peggy the opportunity to down the glass of wine. Maria smiled and said nothing as she set the glass down again. Angelica pretended not to notice.

“Can you do mine too?” Peggy asked.

“Makeovers?” Herc said with a laugh. “I hope ya’ll brought your own foundation.”

“Peggy and I can share,” Maria said. “Mine’s a little dark for Alex, but we can mix. Laf and Herc can share, and Angelica, you can try theirs out. Not the right shade, obviously, but close. I have yours in my bag, Liza. Alex, Theo?”

“Sure!” Theo said with a smile.  
Alex swallowed, feeling the tension between them. “Count me in.” He glanced over at Seabury, who seemed to have shrunken into himself. “You doing this?”

“No, I'm good.” He smiled over at them. “I'll watch.”

“You sure?” Laf asked, and their eyes told Sam everything he needed to know and it made his heart stop dead in his chest.

Lafayette knew.

He didn't know how. He'd tried to be as careful as possible, but they knew. He'd spent his entire life trying to keep it a secret from everyone but Beth. Now someone else knew. He realized everyone was still watching him and he shrugged. “Yeah.”

Laf nodded slowly and turned away. “Everyone, remove your masks. Sam, can you help me find my shit?”

Sam nodded slowly and stood up. He followed them out of the room and down the hall into Laf and Herc’s room. He felt like everyone’s eyes were on his back, picking out the crease of his binder, the curve of his hips. Laf stopped in front of the vanity, turning to look at him, eyes soft.

“You know,” Sam murmured. It wasn't a question.

“I figured out the night you came,” they confessed. “I walked into your room cause I thought I heard something outside, and I can get a better view from that window. I saw the binder lying there.”

Sam mentally berated himself for leaving it out. All these years of being careful and that had ruined it. “Oh.”

“Was that your secret?”

“One of them.” He nodded, heart pounding. “There is no living person on this Earth who knows other than you now. Please keep it that way.”

Laf licked their lips, smiling. “The thing is, I can get you the hormones you need but we can't keep that a secret from Herc. You tell him- or I can- and I'll gerase you testosterone. You're doing a fantastic job passing, by the way, your height is the only thing I can criticize, and I don't mean to offend because you wear it extremely well.”

Sam stared at them, mouth open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You’d…you’d pay for my hormones?”

“Of course.” They smiled, shaking their head like they couldn't believe Sam would doubt that for a second. “We’ll find you a therapist who can get you started.”

Sam covered his mouth, moved. “Oh my god.” He wanted to cry and he wanted to laugh. This had been his dream for years and now, finally, it was becoming a reality. “Oh my god, thank you so much!”

They patted his shoulder, laughing. “We have to help each other out. Also, might be having a new addition to our little queer family soon. John’s brother is also trans. He has to finish the school year in the South but then I'm buying him a plane ticket.”

This network of positivity and support was unlike anything Sam had ever known or dreamed of. He nodded, half wanting to hug Laf and half opposed to any form of physical contact. “When I get the chance, I will pay you back. Promise.”

Laf shook their head. “You don't have to.” They dug around in the top drawer of the vanity, setting out lines of eyeshadow pallets and other makeup products. “Just know that it doesn't make you any less of a man if you wear makeup.”

He smiled nodding. “You know, I think I will try some.”

It was time to get past this irrational fear. It was time to grow.

 


	67. Chapter 67

Ten minutes later, Lafayette was kneeling in front of Herc, wielding an eyeshadow brush like a sword. “Hold still, you fucking dick,” they snapped gently, no real venom in their voice. 

“You're molesting my eye!” Herc said, pushing them off of him. “Be gentle.”

Laf tilted their head, batting their eyes. “You've never liked it gentle before.”

“You know that's not true,” Herc said, leaning forward with a smile.

“Shut the fuck up!” Angelica shouted from behind them, covering Peggy’s ears. “There is a child in the room!”

Peggy rolled her eyes, ducking out of her sister's hold. “Angie, I'm going to college next year. I'm not a child!”

Maria laughed. “You are the smallest of children, the most pure and innocent.”

“Have you forgotten that I had a sugar daddy?”

Alex laughed, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong from his chest. “Yeah, I don't think Pegs is that innocent, Angie.”

Eliza laughed from where she was positioned next to the charger on the wall. “No, she's not. I mean, you might be ace-aro but you aren't a baby."

“Eliza,” Peggy crooned, “my favorite sister, my flawless sister, thank you.”

“Margarita Schuyler!” Angelica snapped, feigning offense.

It was at that point, Alex excused himself from the room, calling John and praying he'd pick up. One ring. Three rings. Seven. Voicemail. He tried again. One ring, two, six. Voicemail. He felt anxiety build in his system. One ring, two rings.

“ _Alex_?” There was wind buffeting the phone, drowning his voice.

“John?” Alex breathed, relieved. “Where are you?”

He was silent for a moment.

“John!”

“ _I'm at the beach, okay? I haven't gone far into the water. I'm just…I'm sorry for storming out. I just needed to be somewhere else._ ”

Alex let out a deep breath. “Promise me that you're alright.”

“Promise on my life.”

Alex felt his chest constrict. “Promise on something else. Something you…you value more.” It hurt him to say it, to know how little John cared for himself, but it was the truth.

“ _Promise on your life._ ” He sounded tired. “ _Do I hear Laf in the background?_ ”

“I'm at Herc and their place. It's spa night,” Alex explained. Herc called his name. “I have to go, Love. Be safe.”

“ _Promise. I love you_.”

Alex hung up. He couldn't bear say it back. “Yeah?” he entered the room again and snorted. Herc had on deep red lipstick, gold eyeshadow, and flawlessly winged eyeliner. “Damn. Laf, you going to make me look pretty?”

Laf laughed, gesturing him over. “I'll try. It's a colossal task.”

Alex sighed, sitting down in front of them. “Here we go.”

“What color eyeshadow?”

“Your choice.”

In the back, Angelica was watching out of the corner of her eye, half listening to Peggy explaining and absolute detail what happened with a boy at her school and how she got her first ever detention.

“Angel?” Peggy asked, squeezing her arm. “You okay?”

Angelica jumped, smiling. “Oh, I'm fine. Just tired. It's-,” she glanced over at Maria and found her voice locked in place, unable to speak. Her eyes were tracing Alex’s shape, not quite lustful but not quite anything else. She looked…starved, ravenous. Then she looked down at Eliza, who was laying across her lap and the look disappeared, replaced by something so intimate and tender than Angelica felt tears behind her eyes.

“You sure you're alright?” Peggy asked, following her gaze. “You're acting really weird.”

Angelica ruffled her hair. “I'm fine. It's been a long day and I'm exhausted.” She mentally berated herself for letting her sister see that something was wrong.

“Alright.” Peggy could tell something was wrong. She didn't know what but she did know Angelica, and something was up. She rolled away, grabbing the last piece of pizza. Oh well.

It was probably nothing.

///

For the first time in a long time, John was sitting by the water, letting it lap at his toes. It was 9:30. There were a few people left on the beach, three guys smoking a joint up on the hill, two girls packing up, throwing nervous glances at the boys. One of them whistled at the girls.

John turned back towards the water, watching the waves crash in the distance. How easy it would be to walk out there, to never emerge again. He shook his head. Couldn't think like that, couldn't break his promise to Alex. One of the guys behind him shouted, “hey, baby! Wanna smile for me?” at the girls.

“Fuck off,” one of them called back.

John turned around to see the guys advancing on the girls, eyes predatory. “Gonna be difficult, whore?” Anger and loss started to seep into his system, remembering Lee’s advances on Martha, how he wanted to step in but couldn't. He gathered himself, standing, and walking over to the scene.

“There a problem, ladies?” he asked, keeping his tone light, while placing himself in between the two parties.

One of the girls, with brown hair and a soft, tanned face, smiled at him. “Oh, I don't know. I'd ask them.” She gestured to the boys.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” he repeated, smiling as the girls snickered behind him.

“No,” the tallest guy said, dropping his smoke in the sand and stomping it out with his heel. He gestured to the other two and they walked back up the hill.

Everyone waited until they were out of earshot to speak. “Thanks,” said the girl with long, straight black hair. “I'm Martha, by the way.” She stuck out her hand.

John felt a sharp pain in his heart. He missed her so much, so, so much. “John,” he replied with a tight smile, shaking it.

“I'm Anna,” the brunette said, grinning. “I could have taken them, but thanks.”

John laughed, knowing not to judge based on the girl’s height, which was probably hardly more than 5’0. “I'm sure.”

Martha smiled, nodding. “She's trained in Karate for, what is it now? Ten years?”

“I think so.”

“Damn.” John let out a low whistle. Anna gave him a careful glance. “Oh, no!” he exclaimed. “I'm not hitting on you, oh my god! I'm gay.”

She looked relieved and laughed. “Okay. Wow, it's fine, man! I'm bi.”

Martha nodded. “I'm straight but I'm really chill.”

John grinned, feeling oddly connected and happy. He could forget about everything happening. “Why are you guys down here so late?”

Anna’s smile faded. “We needed to get out of town. We live in the next over. My…my boyfriend of two years decided it would be appropriate to sleep with my friend.”

“Oh, Jesus,” John said, shifting his weight. “That's a shitty thing to do.”

“I told her about it,” Martha said sadly. “She'd already had her suspicions.”

“Like what?” John asked, glad for the distraction. Maybe he could discard his own problems to help her.

Anna sighed. “Less sympathy. He started to get really demanding, like “you have to do this! You have to do that!” He'd stop saying, I love you.” John felt his blood start to run cold. “Making up excuses, got violent- never with me, but with other people. We were distant.”

_God, that sounded like Alex._

“I'm so sorry,” he said quietly. “He doesn't deserve you if he does that.”

She smiled sadly. “Thanks.”

John looked up. The purple was slowly bleeding into blackness as night overtook the day. “It's getting late,” he said. “You guys have a car?” It was 9:48.

The girls exchanged glances. “It's a block away,” Martha said, touching her hair.

“I'll walk you, if you'd like,” he offered. “I should be heading back too.”

“Sure!” she said, smiling. She grabbed Anna’s arm. “Get your stuff.”

Anna grabbed her bag and they began to walk. John couldn't get his mind off of what she had said, the signs her boyfriend was cheating. He couldn't stop thinking about them because Alex fit most of them perfectly. _But he loves me,_ he thought desperately.   _He loves me._

_Right?_

///

Alex picked up the mirror that was handed to him and snorted. His face was a little dark- courtesy of Maria’s foundation- and he had been given a smokey eye and a pair of fake eyelashes. His eyebrows were high and filled in. His face was contoured, cheekbones sharp and high. His nose looked thinner and his cheeks pink. “Jesus,” he said, laughing. “Thanks, Laf.”

“Damn. That highlight,” Peggy commented from her seat in front of Laf. “Come on, Laf, work your magic.”

“It's not magic,” they said, rolling their eyes. “It's skill.”

“A magical skill,” Eliza said. “You are a magician.”

Herc snorted. “They almost poked my eye out!”

“But I didn't,” they defended, settling on yellow. “Peggy, my favorite Schuyler, I promise not to poke your eye out.” Angelica snorted behind them.

“Excuse me,” she said, grinning.

Laf didn't even look at her. “You're excused.”

Eliza laughed, slinging an arm around Angelica. “Poor little Angel,” she crooned.

“Liza, I swear…” she shook her head, pulling her sister into a headlock.

“Stop!” Eliza squealed, writhing. Her cheeks were pink from laughing and her eyes bright.

Maria leaned her chin on her hand and watched. Dear god, she was lucky to love this girl. But…

But Alexander fucking Hamilton.  
He had ruined everything, but they were both to blame. What they had done- were doing- was inexcusable, terrible. And yet, they continued to do it. She wanted to stop, she knew she should, but it was so hard. She knew Eliza wasn't ready for anything intimate yet and, frankly, she wasn't sure either- at least not with a girl. Guys, she knew how to do. James had made sure of that. The territory was familiar.

She remember that night, she might just regret that night the rest of her days. She could remember the buzz of alcohol in her system in a hotel without a name. She remembered those hot eyes in dim light at a time she couldn't quite place.

But she'd never forget the first they kissed.

Nothing would ever be the same, drunken eyes and hunger pained lips, and with her hand in his, she forgot what they were doing was wrong.

But, Lord, was it wrong.

She laughed, watching Eliza beg for mercy and Angelica let her go, looking victorious. “Say I'm the best,” she said, ruffling Eliza’s hair.

“You're stupid.” Eliza caught Maria’s eye, laughing. Theo snorted next to her.

“What was that, my darling sister?” she said innocently, wrapping a threatening arm around her neck.

Eliza sighed. “You're the best. I love you.” Angelica leaned back, looking very pleased.

Alex stood up, stretching. “Hey, guys. It's, like, 10:20, so I have to go.”

“Stay longer, mon amie,” Lafayette said, looking up from Peggy’s makeup. “Don't leave us.”

Alex shrugged apologetically. “Have to make sure John got home.” His face darkened and Herc nodded understandingly, eyes flitting to Laf. He knew what it was like.

“Alright,” he announced. “Call us if you need anything. Want me to drive?”

Alex grinned slightly, nodding. “Sure.”

They walked out to the car, breathing in the warm night air.

Alex stretched, his shirt riding up. “That was fun,” he said with a smile, climbing into the passengers seat.

“Yeah,” Herc said. “We need to hangout more often.”

“We really do.” Neither of them spoke for a while, content with the silence that carried on until they pulled up the Alex’s apartment at 10:34.

“Thanks for coming,” Herc said quietly. “Make sure John’s okay.”

“I will,” Alex promised, sliding out of the car. “Thanks for having me over.”

“It's no problem. Bye, man.”

“Bye.” Alex closed the door, jogging up to the door and unlocking it. The house was dark and empty. A bitter feeling of worry filled him. He took out his phone, swearing as he saw it was only at 20%. Better than nothing. Quickly, he dialed John’s number, locking the door behind him.

“ _Alex_?” 

Alex let out a sigh of relief. “Hey, Love. Where are you?”

“ _I'm on my way back_ ,” John said quietly. He sounded strange, tired.

“Alright. I'll wait for you. You've still got dinner on the table. I can warm it up.”

He sighed. “I'm not hungry. Thanks, Babe.”

“You need to eat,” Alex insisted. “John, Love, you haven't been eating enough recently. You think I don't notice that you don't have enough energy?”

“ _It's hard right now, Alex. With Martha, my mom, everything. Just…just let me be and I'll be fine._ ” 

“Finish your soup at least,” Alex insisted. “Please.”

John conceded. “ _Alright. I love you. I'm just outside the door so I guess I should hang up._ ”

“Yeah,” Alex said, smiling. He hung up as the door swung open and John entered, hair windblown and eyes dark.

John made a beeline towards Alex, who opened his arms. John pressed himself into his chest, burying his face in his shoulder. “I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I love you so much.”

Alex felt tears in his eyes. “I love you too.” God, it felt good to say that again.

He pulled away, a smile curving his lips. “Nice makeup.”

“I owe it to Laf. I'd kiss you but this lipstick is perfect and I will not risk it.”

John kissed his nose. “Not even for me?”

Alex pretended to think. “Well…”

Then he kissed him, unapologetic and needy and deep. He felt John respond with equal passion and felt a burst of love.

Maybe things would go back to normal.

 


	68. Chapter 68

Nothing was normal.

Maria had hoped- prayed even- that this wouldn't happen again, that he wouldn't call her, ask her to come over. She had hoped that she wouldn't say yes, wouldn't want this. Yet it happened and yet she did.

Days passed, weeks. Spring break came and went with nothing of great importance happening and the end of school began to approach rapidly. The affair continued, never letting up.

Neither of them wanted it anymore, neither of them loved each other, and both of them felt awful. It was a drug, a sickness. The more they tried to end it the deeper they were pulled into this web of lies and guilt.

She and Eliza still never had sex, were too scared to. Slowly, Eliza started to realize something was wrong and would ask her about it. Maria would kiss her nose and tell her everything was alright. Nothing was alright. Sometimes the guilt was so bad she'd throw up from the churning of her stomach.

Alex and John began to fight more and more. She had been in the midst of a few of those, hated that she had -partially- caused it. She hated that after John would storm out, Alex would lock the door and kiss her roughly and she'd kiss back because she needed to. She needed him.

John wouldn't hang out one on one with her as much anymore, spent his time with the Schuyler's as a group, while Alex found comfort in Laf and Herc. Everyone was worried out the two and it was often a topic of conversation, even among James and Thomas, who's only concern was about John.

It was difficult, having to listen to people speculate what happened to start breaking them apart and knowing it was you who tore them apart. You were why they had started to burn. Finally, she felt like she needed to take a stand and stopped coming over, stopped answering Alex’s texts. He called her, called the Schuyler's, called everyone to try and contact her, but she refused. She couldn't be drawn in to this web of lust and guilt again. She had to break free.

He wrote her letters, which she'd tear apart and flush down the toilet, or stash in tear in the mattress of her bed. He'd approach her directly and she would leave, go to the women's bathroom where he couldn't follow. Peggy asked her why she refused to see him and she'd answer with, “I just don't want to. I had a nightmare about him.” No more questions asked.

She tried to busy herself in every way possible, fussing over Theo, who was just hardly showing, trading makeup tips with Laf, going on dates with Eliza. But Alex was always in the back of her mind, unwanted yet constant. Because she didn't love him, right?

No.

But she did love Eliza and she had to show it, had to make up for all she'd done. And yet the letters kept coming. She hid them under the bed, where no one would find them, never opened, never read. Alex was relentless in his efforts to contact her and she was constantly trying to cover up.

The stress of John and Alex didn't affect everyone, however. Samuel Seabury seemed happier than ever, laughing and talking more than anyone had ever seen. Only Herc and Laf seemed to know why and they refused to say. He'd hang out with them more, laughing and talking.

Then the call came.

The original plan was for John's brother, Mark, to come down when the school year finished but then he had broken the news that he couldn't. “I'm getting a pretty big scholarship, but only for schools in the South. I have to stay here or else I won't be able to afford college. Dad won't cover mine. Now that news is out about…you, he's worried he won't be paid as much, even though we've already got tons of money, for having a gay son.”

That had just kindled another fight between Alex and John. John said he was moving back to the South if Mark wasn't coming back and Alex insisted he could take care of himself the last year before college and then move out. It resulted in raised voices and Alex storming out of the house, slamming the door behind him. That's when they next saw each other.

She hadn't known he was down by the beach, and she needed to clear her head. They had, quite literally, ran into each other, ending with Alex knocked back into the sand. “Hi,” he said slowly, brushing himself off. It was 5:46 in the evening.

“Hi,” she said, looking everywhere but him.

“We haven’t talked in a while,” he commented, watching her struggle to avoid his face.

She shrugged. “Probably best that way, don't you think?”

“You know what you want, Maria,” he said quietly. “It's not Eliza.”

She looked up, anger flaring in her chest. She shoved him back and stepped away. “Not you,” she snarled. “Never again. What's between us is gone. I love Eliza, not you.”

“Sure,” he said slowly. “But John and I are getting worse and worse. I need distraction.”

“No. What the _hell_ are you playing at, _Hamilton_? I made the right choice because I love Eliza. Do you even love John? Can you really say that when you keep chasing after me?"

He shook his head disbelievingly. “Never doubt that I love him, _Lewis_. It's over but we can never undo what we did. I could have grown to like you, Maria.”

“We were drunk and desperate! It means nothing. And I have grown to hate you, Alexander,” she breathed. “It's only a matter of time before someone finds out.”

“Like us?” came a voice from behind them. Alex swung around, eyes widening to see Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and Aaron Burr standing there, arms crossed.

“My god, Hamilton,” James breathed. “My god.”

“N-no,” Alex sputtered, panic slowly spreading across his face as he realized what was happening. “You don't know anything about this.”

“I think we know enough,” Jefferson said quietly. “And maybe John should know too.”

“Don't you dare!” Alex snarled, stepping towards him. James pushed himself in front of his boyfriend.

“Don't,” he said slowly, voice far too calm. “Don't take another step. Either of you.”

Burr surveyed the scene with a calm expression. “This is quite a large secret, Alexander.”

“It would be a shame if someone were too,” Jefferson feigned tipping a glass over, “spill it.”

“What do you want?” Alex said slowly. “I'll give you anything. Money?”

They shook their heads. “No,” Burr answered, tone light and unmoved. “You know, my girlfriend is pregnant, right? Yeah, and I love her more than anything. I can't imagine what disregard and disrespect it would take to cheat on someone you love; it's disgusting.”

“You aren't a part of this!” Alex snarled at him. “Stay out of it. And since when have you had an opinion on anything, Burr?”

“I might not have opinions, but I do have morals.”

“We could tell John and Eliza,” James said quietly. “Hamilton, I respected you. You were a good man, a smart student. We could have been friends. Miss Lewis, you aren't innocent either. You will also face the consequences of your actions.”

Maria nodded, eyes downwards. “I am well aware.”

“James,” Thomas said quietly, “maybe we could give them a chance?”

Alex could scarcely believe it. Jefferson sticking up for him? “A chance?”

James ignored Alex, turning instead to Jefferson. “Such as?”

“One week to end everything, to…repair the bonds they broke with their significant others. If that doesn't happen, the news spills. Miss Lewis tried to end it, that warrants one chance, and I don't want to bring her down just to get Hamilton.”

"I agree," James said with a smile. "Burr?"

"It's up to you."

Alex nodded slowly. “Jefferson? How do I know you won't use against me the next time we go toe to toe?”

His smile was almost sad, lacking its usual venom. “Alexander, a rumor will only grow. Besides, we both know what we know, and what I don't, I can fill in.”

Alex got home at 6:12, before John, who was working a job he had just recently gotten at a coffeeshop, trying to raise money to help send Mark to school outside South Carolina. His head was spinning. Jefferson was going to tell. He was going to tell everyone. There was no way out. Unless-

Unless he couldn't tell, unless the news was already out. He knew they wouldn't repair everything in a week, he knew Jefferson would admit everything. Alex couldn't do that. He couldn't let that happen. No. He wouldn't let that happen. Jefferson would not be his downfall, the end of everything. He would _not_ go down by Jefferson's hand.

In the insane genius of his human mind, Alexander Hamilton couldn't fathom how he had formulated this plan, this terrible, wonderful plan. He couldn't let Jefferson be his downfall, he couldn't let him expose them. Only he would be his downfall, have that control to destroy himself. It was as if his body was not his own, as if his hand was possessed as it flew over paper, knuckles white from gripping the pen. Letter after letter appeared and letter after letter were destroyed, until he managed to create the perfect one, and dated it a week back.

It was plain, simple. Everything he needed. He would plant that letter somewhere, make it obvious, plain as day. And someone would find it. And then all would start to crumble, but not at the hands of Jefferson. It was evil, he knew, to do this, to disguise his plan as guilt and worry, but it had to be done. This was the eye of his hurricane. This was the only way he could protect his honor.

He went to the Schuyler’s house and asked to talk to Eliza, as he had hoped, she had lead him to her and Maria’s room and asked him what was wrong. He spun the story of stress and worry and she ate it up, telling him everything would work out, that John loved him and there was just too much happening right now. She left to use the bathroom and that's when he slipped the letter down under the bed, clear enough to see but still hidden. He left at 7:02, a feeling of guilt and relief in his chest. All he had to do now was wait. And wait.

He was in his hurricane, the world flashing too fast for him to see, stuck in the endless cycle of love and pain and he was going to fix that. This staged letter was going to fix that. It was part one of his operation.

All of this would be well.

 


	69. Chapter 69

In the end, Peggy found them. 

It was 9:34 the next night. She had come up to their room to see if Eliza, who had gone out earlier that day, was back yet. The letter had been the first thing she noticed and when she read it, her eyes filled with tears.

_Miss Maria Lewis, when should we meet again? I fear that John is growing suspicious of me. Is it the same with your Eliza? I admit I long for you inside my bed once again, and nothing fulfills my desires._

_I am yours, Alex._

Disbelievingly, she reread the letter several times, trying to convince herself she was insane, that this wasn't what it appeared to be. After all, there was no way this could be real.

Right?

“Angel?” she called, voice quiet and shocked. She was numb, not processing what was in front of her. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. It couldn't be but it made all the sense in the world. “Angelica!”

Angelica came running at the distress in her voice. Upon entering the room, Peggy had handed her the letter. Her eyes skimmed it, disbelieving. “Oh my god,” she breathed, trying to understand what had happened. “Oh my god.”

Then Peggy started to cry, collapsing against the bed frame so that it was jostled and letters began to pour out of a rip in the mattress. Her eyes widened and she grabbed one. “There's more,” she whispered. “There's more.”

Angelica wrapped an arm around her, kissing her forehead. There was nothing to say. This was…this was unimaginable. She knew what they were the second she saw them cascade from their hiding place.

How could they tell Eliza this?

How could she bear tell Eliza the news that would destroy her?

How would they explain this to John?

“Angelica?” Peggy's tearful whisper brought her back to present. Her eyes were red and broken, tears glossing her cheeks. Peggy never cried, not in front of her sisters anyway. Seeing her like this brought both calm and fury to Angelica and she pulled her little sister against her chest and held her tightly. “What are we going to do?” she whispered.

_I don't know._ “We’ll find something out. Everything's gonna be okay.” She stroked her hair, trying to reassure them both. She had idea what to do, but Peggy trusted her to sort this out and that's exactly what she had to do.

“Don't lie, please.” Peggy snuffled, leaning back a little. “I just don't understand how this could have happened. Maria loves Eliza. Alex loves John. How can we even begin to explain to either of them?”

“Peggy!” Angelica snapped, forcing the tears away. “I don't know, okay? I don't know!” And then Peggy was clutching to her like a child and she was sobbing and sobbing and both of them crumbled into dust, staying locked in their embrace for a good twenty minutes. It was 9:55 when they stood up, wiping their faces and straightening their clothes.

“We have to tell her,” Angelica said quietly. “When she gets back. She has to know, Pegs.”

“I know,” Peggy responded in an equally soft tone. She looked disconnected, as if pulling herself away from reality. “I know we have to. It's just-“

“I know, I know,” Angelica murmured. “We will have failed as sisters if we don't.”

She nodded, gathering the letters to her chest and leaving the room. Angelica hurried after her, watching her stuff the letters into her jacket, hanging on a doorknob. Her face was suddenly flush with anger and her hands were shaking.

“Pegs, you alright?” Angelica asked hesitantly. She reached out a gentle hand and placed it over her sister's.

“Nothing’s okay,” Peggy whispered. “Nothing will ever be okay again. I loved Maria like she was family, we treated her as such! And this is what she does?”

“Pegs, we don't know the whole story,” Angelica tried to reason. “Maybe we’re missing something?”

“You know that's not true,” she snapped, shoulders tense. “She had an affair with Alexander fucking Hamilton! She cheated on our sister!” 

“Language,” Angelica chided, trying her best to keep it together. “I know. I just…I want to believe it isn't true.”

“But it is.”

She nodded. “But it is.”

So they sat in silence, wondering how in the world this had all come to be. Angelica picked up the letters and started to read through them, every one confirming what the first had.

_M, why are you avoiding me? How will this be productive at all? You know as well I that we cannot go without each other any longer. From the moment we kissed, you and I both knew that we were starving for this. John and I are falling into pieces, I need my distraction as I know you need yours. Consider this, I beg of you. -A.Ham_

_Maria, I'm asking you to at least speak to me. We raise suspicious if we refuse to talk for no reason. This affair doesn't have to continue, but I beg of you to answer me. Please. -A.Ham_

_Miss Lewis, I have tried to contact you so many times and I can't help but believe you are avoiding me. Tell me, why? You and I both want this to stop, but you and I both know it cannot. I know the guilt you feel and the addiction to me, as the addiction I have to you. Not speaking will not solve anything, Maria. We both know this. -A.Ham_

They went on and one like this, letter after letter enforcing the same point and it was so undeniably obvious that both of them were unhappy with the affair that Angelica felt a tiny stir of pity. She wondered if either of them had ever felt forced, or like they couldn't say not to it. _Maria cheated on your sister,_ she reminded herself, pushing away pity. _Alex cheated on John._

How, she wondered, in the midst of everything in John's life- his sister dying, his abusive father, his mental state- could Alex stop being loyal? This was the time that he needed to be there, to let John know he was loved. Instead, he'd gone off and had an affair.

Downstairs, a door opened and Peggy looked up at her with anxiety coloring her face grey. “Liza?” she called, voice trembling. 10:33.

“Peggy?” she called back. “Hey!” Her voice was happy, and as she came up the stairs, her face was glowing. There was smeared lipstick on her mouth. Angelica wanted to throw up.

“Is Maria here?” she asked.

Eliza furrowed her brows, looking at their faces with worry. “N-no. She went to pick up my holds at the library. I forgot to get them. What happened?”

“Eliza, sit down,” Peggy said quietly.

“Is Dad okay?” she asked, eyes wide. “Did something happen to our friends? Are Theo and the baby okay?”

Angelica closed her eyes, trying to stop any tears. “Everyone's okay. Eliza, please sit down.”

Eliza sat next to Peggy, eyeing the letters scattered around. “What are those?”

Peggy eyed Angelica, who nodded. She handed the one they had found to Eliza. She squeezed her arm tightly, watching her face as she read the letter, blinked with confusion, and reread it.

“Liza?” Peggy asked hesitantly.

Eliza looked up. Her eyes were dark and shocked. “This is a joke,” she whispered, laughing shakily. “This has to be a joke. Maria would never…Pegs? Please tell me this is a joke.”

Peggy shook her head, choking on tears. “I'm sorry,” she breathed. “I'm so sorry.”

“No. No, this can't be real,” she said, standing, voice growing shrill and loud. “Angelica? This can't be real! She loves me! She said she loves me!”

Angelica stood, taking Eliza's hands. Her heart was breaking. “I know,” she whispered. “I know. I'm so fucking sorry.”

Eliza crumbled, sinking to the floor with a sob. Angelica pulled her into a hug and she clung on so tightly that her nails cut into her skin, but it didn't bother her. “I don't understand,” she whispered. “Angelica, I don't understand. And John…” Of course she was worrying about John, Angelica thought, heart breaking and melting.

“I know, Sweetheart,” she whispered, rubbing circles into her back. “I know.”

“He's going to fall apart,” Eliza sobbed. “God, so much happened with him and…how's he going to survive this? He loves that boy more than anything.”

Peggy came to sit next to them, rubbing Eliza's back slowly. “I'm so sorry, 'Liza. John's going to be fine. We could…he could move in, couldn't he? Maria isn't staying here anymore.”

“She's not?” Eliza asked, looking up. Her mascara was running in dark lines across her pale skin.

“I'm not letting her,” Angelica answered. “She can find a new place.”

“Where will she go?”

Peggy shrugged. “I assume either John or Alexander will move out. We can offer a place to John, and she can go live with Alexander. Maybe that would be best.”

Eliza nodded, burying her face back into Angelica’s shirt. “Sorry,” she sniffled. “I'm probably getting makeup on your shirt.”

“Makeup washes out,” Angelica soothed. “'Liza, you okay?”

“I don't know anymore,” she whispered, and the utter brokenness and pain in her voice shattered Angelica's heart.

It was 10:57 when Maria opened the door. “ELiza!” she called. “I got the books!”

Eliza shook her head at Peggy's questioning look. “I'm up here,” she shouted.

They listened to her climb the stairs, one foot after another, echoing through the house. Eliza pushed herself away, wiping her eyes. When Maria came into view, she froze, eyes scanning the letters scattered across the floor. “Oh,” she breathed.

“Maria, you-“ Angelica started, voice heated and terse. Eliza held out a hand, standing and walking forward slowly. Maria shrank back, dropping the books.

“Did you save every letter he wrote you?” she said softly. “When I read them I knew you weren't mine. You said you were mine, and I thought you were mine.”

“Please,” she whispered, “let me explain.”

“What is there to explain?” Angelica snarled. “What you did is inexcusable.”

Maria hung her head. “I know. Eliza, I tried to end it a few times. I don't love him. I could never love him. The guilt I felt…it was overwhelming. I made the choice to try and end it. That's why I stopped talking to him, stopped answering his calls. He confronted me on the beach, we ran into each other.”

“Yesterday?” Eliza asked.  
“Yesterday,” she confirmed. “I told him I was done, that it was over. I told him I hated him. Eliza, please- he hasn't sent me letters in nearly two weeks.”

Eliza shook her head. “No. No. This is the letter we found. Dated a week ago.” She stooped to pick up one of the letters, written on notebook paper. Maria furrowed her brow, confusion etched on her face.

“Liza, this…I swear on everything I hold dear that I've never seen this before. The other letters, yeah, but this…” Her eyes widened. “He planted this.”

“Maria, what the fuck is happening?” Peggy said.

“Thomas, James, and Aaron overheard us. Thomas said he wouldn’t tell anyone if we shaped up within a week. It's been over longer than that, I promise. Alex…he didn't want Thomas to use that as blackmail. He must have planted this in plain sight! So you'd find out, so it couldn't be used against him.”

Eliza shook her head, heart breaking yet again. She didn't want to do this, to hurt Maria again. “That's ridiculous. Maria, we’re giving you two days, then you're out. Find a place to stay, pack your stuff. You're sleeping in the office instead.”

Maria shook her head, tears falling down her cheeks. “Please. Eliza, you have to believe me when I say I tried to end it, that this is no letter I've ever seen before! There's nowhere I can go.”

Eliza's voice was like venom. Maria had never heard it like this. “Then you should have said no.” She turned and walked away.

Angelica and Peggy followed.  
Maria sunk to the floor, holding the letter with disbelief.

This was the beginning of the end.


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I didn't answer comments yesterday, I was super busy!

It was 3:04 in the morning now. Alex couldn't sleep. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring out the window into the dark. The ghost of red lips and hungry eyes pulled at him from all sides, drowning him. Jefferson had said he could “fill in” what he didn't know. He could still ruin Alex even with the affair public. He could make up any story he wanted.

There was nothing left to do but more writing.

He slipped out of bed, casting one last glance at John, asleep on his side of the bed, and made his way out into the living room. His laptop was sitting there, open and ready, waiting for him, calling to him. This was it, the way he could secure his reputation. It was all for him.

He took a deep breath, logging on and going straight to a Word Document. On the top, in huge, bold letters, he typed:  
  
_THE LEWIS PAMPHLET_

_I owe perhaps to all my close friends an apology for allowing them to find out of my scandal through a public explanation, and perhaps a Mister John Laurens most dearly included.  
The charge against me is a connection with one Maria Lewis, for purposes of improper speculation. My crime is an amorous connection to herself, for a considerable time without our partners knowing or consent. This confession is not made without shame. I cannot be the apologist of any vice because the ardour of passion has made it mine._

  
_I will never cease to condemn myself for the pain, which will inflict upon a man I care for most dearly and who is eminently entitled to to all my gratitude. But this man will approve, that even at so great an expense, I should wipe away a more serious stain of blackmail material from my name. The public too will, I trust, excuse the confession. The necessity of it to my defense against a more serious consequence. It is absolutely necessary for the true story to be released before a false version set by my enemies. I compel you, Reader, to take my word as the upmost truth._

_Miss Lewis and myself were mutual acquaintances through my partner, John Laurens. She and Laurens painted together, teaching each other, and she was certainly pleasant to be around. Upon meeting her, I will admit to finding her to be one the more beautiful people I have ever set my hungry eyes upon. From the first glance, one can see why. At the time, Miss Lewis had not yet developed her relationship with a Miss Elizabeth Schuyler, nor myself with John Laurens, as previously mentioned._

_There came a time that tried my soul, as stress and work began to pile onto me. I was downtown for a job interview when I ran into Miss Lewis. At this time, she was dating the aforementioned Elizabeth Schuyler, and myself with the mentioned John Laurens. We spoke for a while, and she revealed that she needed help as ex-boyfriend James Reynolds was following her. I acted as her boyfriend for a short period of time, shielding her from him. When he requested we kiss to prove to him that we were actually dating- which we were not- we obliged. He believed us and left._

_Upon his departure, we were left alone. Miss Lewis was able to acquire a bottle of alcohol from an old friend at an unnamed store. We went back the hotel room I was staying in and chatted and drank for a bit._

_Against our better judgements, we both became intoxicated rather quickly and turned to one another for distraction. A distraction from reality. I will not lie when I say that I am, quite frankly, rather embarrassed to tell you all that we did, in fact, sleep together and that it was one of many occasions, this being the first. Before leaving to go back home, we slept together one last time._

_As time went on, I had frequent meetings with her, most of them at my own house. They occurred when Mister Laurens would leave to study, when he was still at school, or simply when he was away. These instances occurred up to twice a day, continuing for months, with both of our consent. Finally, we started to make efforts to stop the affair, to stop seeing each other. Time after time, they failed, and we were left more desperate than ever before. With increasing passion, time went on, as did our affair._

_We took a break when Laurens and I were called to South Carolina at the sudden and tragic death of his younger sister. Following that, the affair picked up again without any change. The guilt I felt during the times we were together were terrible and overwhelming, yet I could not bear stop it. Laurens and I never were intimate, with him being asexual, and I simply responded to my basic human instincts by finding a way to satisfy myself, and another sex deprived person._

_That person was Miss Lewis.  
_

_The affair continued and continued and neither of us were happy. We both wanted to stop, but the drug of we'd created between us was just too powerful. Miss Lewis did express her unease and guilt many times, saying she knew this wasn't right, that she didn't love me, and I didn't love her. We used each other as one would cigarettes. We were a terrible addiction, a kettle boiling over. We knew it would never end well. Then, nearly three months into the affair, Miss Lewis stopped speaking to me all together._

_For nearly a month this continued. I tried to contact her through email, text, calling, even simply speaking face to face. She continued to remain ardently stone faced despite my advances. Eventually, we did run into each other- quite literally- on the very same beach I met Mister Laurens what seemed like a long time ago. She expressed her hatred about me, exclaiming loudly that it was only a matter of time before someone would expose us, and she was right._

_At that moment, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, and Aaron Burr walked into our conversation. They heard every word, yet not enough to know exactly what happened. This is why I have written this Pamphlet. They threatened me, threatened to spread false rumors unless we did the impossible. I realized that this way I could possibly protect my honor and myself was to tell everyone what had actually happened before some terrible rumor was spread._

_I realize that this will be damaging to my relations with people, and their relations, but I could not sit in the dark whilst others ruin my life. I write this and I publish this to prove that I am innocent. That, despite being immoral, I am honest, and one should praise honesty above all else.  
_

_I leave you now. Take this information, share it, do with it what you wish.  
_

_-A.Ham_

“Alex? Why are you awake?” The voice floated up from behind him. He instinctively looked at the clock. 3:54.

Alex turned the computer away from him and looked over his shoulder. John was standing in the middle of the doorway, eyes dark and sleepy. “I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd do work,” he lied smoothly.

“Alex, come back to sleep,” John murmured, walking over to him and resting his hands on the back to the chair.

“I have a paper due at dawn,” he lied again.

“It's still dark outside.”

Alex stood up, placing his hands on his waist and kissing his nose. His stomach churned. “I know. I just needed to write something down.”

“Why do you write like you're running out of time?” he asked softly. “Come back to bed, that would be enough.”

“I'll be back before you know I'm gone,” he promised. He felt sick, the words were bitter.

John kissed him gently. “Come back to sleep.”

“It's due at dawn,” Alex murmured, humming against his lips. It never struck him that this might be the last time they kissed.

“Well, I'm going back to sleep,” he said softly, starting to turn away. Alex grabbed his hand, kissing it.

“Hey.” John turned to smile sleepily down at him. “Best of boyfriends and best of people.”

John turned away, seemingly floating into the shadows of the hallway. Alex turned back to the computer, copying the entire document into a blog he had started months ago but never done anything on. One click of the mouse and it was published. One click and he was on his email, pulling up the addresses for everyone he knew. The entire debate team, his friends, James and Thomas. He pasted the entire document. Click.

_Sent_.

There was no going back now.  
He closed the computer, staring at it for a long moment. It was done. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. It was done. He was safe. Time to wait and see what people thought, what their reactions would be.

At 4:07, he climbed back into bed. John rolled over, wrapping his arms around Alex. There was that sick guilt again, getting stronger and stronger. He forced it away. This had been the right thing.

_Right?  
_

_Yeah, of course._

He nuzzled up against John, kissing his cheek. “Love you,” he murmured, completely unaware that this may be the last time they would sleep together.

John smiled. “Love you.” Perhaps he'd never say that again either.  
So many lasts that he just passed over, oblivious.

It was the beginning of the end.


	71. Chapter 71

It started with whispers in the hallways, eyes on John as he walked to class. It started with sympathizing looks and murmurs in the back of the classrooms. It started with people telling him they were sorry and evil looks at Alexander. It started with Eliza calling him during lunch and asking him to come to her place as fast as possible.

It was the beginning of the end.

He had been confused, worried even. What had happened? He went to Lafayette but they refused to tell him anything, just stared at the ground with red eyes. Thomas and James both told him he'd have to go to Eliza to find out. John felt Thomas’ sad eyes on his back as he walked out the door.

Angelica came to pick him up. She looked miserable, eyes tired and red from cryibg while driving over. It was probably the only place she could cry without her sister's seeing. John offered to drive and she gratefully accepted. “Angie,” he said softly, “what's going on?”

“I'm surprised no ones told you yet,” was her only response.

It was 1:23 when they got to the Schuyler’s house. The second he walked through the door, Peggy grabbed his arm and pulled him up the stairs. She looked like she too had been crying.

“Pegs?” Angelica asked. “Why aren't you at school?”

“I left,” Peggy said matter-of-factly. “Half the kids at my school know about it. I pretended to have a breakdown. No one was stopping me.”

John furrowed his brow, anxiety turning his stomach. “What happened?”

Peggy stopped, staring at him. “Oh,” she said, turning to Angelica, who shook her head. “Go see Eliza. John, I am so, so sorry.”

“What?”

She shoved him towards the hallway. “Go.”

John took a calming breath, walking slowly down the hallway. He peered into the room to see Eliza sitting on her bed. Her hair was unbrushed, eyes bloodshot and empty. The curtains were closed and the room was dark. She looked undone, cracked, broken. “John,” she whispered, looking up at him. “Dear god.”

“What happened?” He entered and she moved so he could sit next to her. “Eliza…”

She handed him a letter, crinkled at the edges and tearstained. Her hands were shaking to the point where she could hardly hold it.

John squeezed her hand, steadying it. His eyes scanned the words, disbelieving and shocked.  
Here was all he had ever feared, the terrible conformation of what he had prayed would never happen. It was all here, written in that messy, loopy handwriting he knew so well. He had letters, beautiful, beautiful letters written in that writing. He knew it better than any other writing in the world, and here it was again, confessing unfaithfulness instead of love.

It couldn't be.

He hadn't realized how long he had been staring at those words until Eliza touched his arm. “Are you okay?” she said softly, already knowing the answer.

“He said he loved me,” John whispered, hands beginning to shake. “He said…I thought…” A tear slipped down his cheek. “How could he do this?”

Eliza shushed him, taking his hand in her two and stroking it. “I know, I know. This isn't the only thing…John, he published a blog about the…the affair.”

“A blog?”

She nodded. “He sent emails to the entire debate team about it. He had some weird, twisted idea that this would sort everything out. Maria-“ her voice shook. “-Maria said Jefferson said he would tell us- just you and me- about the affair unless one of them ended it. I guess he didn't want the word to get out unless it was exact facts. Now, everybody knows.” She wiped her eyes. “I printed it out.” She handed him a stack of papers.

John looked through them, soaking in every word, every confession. He felt sick, felt betrayed. He couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. He had trusted Alex, loved him, and he went and did this? It wasn't fair! How could he do this? He set the papers aside, not even half way through but unable to continue. Suddenly, a rush of nausea passed over him and he bolted for the bathroom, Eliza running after him.

“Breathe,” she soothed, holding his hair back as he retched into the toilet. Angelica and Peggy were at the door, helplessly watching. “I know,” Eliza murmured. “I did the same thing. Breathe. Have you eaten today?”

“Breakfast,” he managed before going back to spewing sick again. His stomach ached and turned. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” she said softly, rubbing his back. “Pegs, can you get some water?”

“On it,” Peggy said, rushing off.  
Angelica sat on his other side, coaxing his head up. “Look at me,” she said in a gentle voice that John had only ever heard her talk to her sisters with. “Breathe, John.” She gently wiped off his face with toilet paper, stroking his hair back. “You good?” Behind him, Eliza was watching with the upmost affection for his sister.

“I'm good,” he whispered, ashamed at having to be taken care of. “I'm sorry, I'm…I'm a mess.”

“It's understandable,” Peggy assured him, handing him the water glass. “What happened…I just can't believe it.”

John took a drink and spit it back in the bowl, trying to clean the taste from his mouth. He nodded, wiping his eyes. He took another drink, unsure of what to say. Then- “oh god.” His face paled. “Eliza, how many people have seen the blog?”

She closed her eyes. “There's already an article on it. I mean, it's kinda a big deal. Things like this don't usually happen around here. Last I checked, over 25,000 people have viewed the blog.”

Suddenly he felt sick again and dry heaved into the toilet until he thought his organs would come up. “My dad’s going to find out about this,” he whispered. “Fuck. Mark’s going to see this.” He let out a sob and Angelica wrapped an arm around him, establishing herself as the older sibling he had never had.

“It's going to be okay,” she soothed. “Listen, you’re staying with us now. Maria’s moving out. You aren't staying with him.”

“Let him make the choice, Angel,” Eliza said softly. She was burying her pain so she could help John cope. “How'd you feel about that?”

He nodded, smiling through tears. “Thank you. I'd…I’d love that. Is…is Maria here?”

Peggy nodded sadly. “She's in the office. Had to come home early cause people were shitting on her at school, telling her was a slut and asking if she'd sleep with them for money.”

“Jesus. Could I speak to her?”

“I'll show you to where she is,” Angelica said, helping him up. “You alright?”

John nodded. “I'm fine.” He'd never been less fine.

They walked in silence, her hand on his arm, until they reached a closed door. Angelica knocked three times. “Maria,” she called. “It's me. Open up.”

Slowly, the door opened. Maria was wearing a red sweatshirt and yoga pants. Her mascara was running down her cheeks and her eyes were red and tearful. Upon seeing John, she covered her mouth with her hands, shaking her head. “Oh my god,” she whispered in a high voice. “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I-“

Then he was hugging her, letting her melt against his body. She was confused. Why should he show her any kindness? What she had done was unacceptable, inexcusable. He shouldn't be hugging her. He should be hitting her, yelling at her for what they did.

“Maria,” John said softly in broken voice. “Oh, Maria.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, pulling back. “I'm so fucking sorry.”

He smiled through tears. “I know. You tried to end it, and I'm so grateful that you at least tried. I'm angry but I don't think I've quite processed it enough to recognize that. Did he…did he ever force you?” The tone suddenly switched and the room dropped two degrees.

Her smiled faded and she shook her head. “There were times when I didn't want to but I was never forced. I'm sure it was the same with him."

“Promise me,” John said softly.

“I promise.” She nodded slowly. “I'm sorry for everything. I've ruined your lives.”

He shook his head. “You didn't publish that Pamphlet. That's what's ruined my life. Everyone knows our business, knows about my sister. My father’s going to find it, he's going to be humiliated.”

“He outed Eliza to our dad,” Angelica said softly. “And everyone else.” He had forgotten she was there.

“Really?” John said disbelievingly. “Oh god.”

Maria hung her head. “I'm going to go now. John, I'm so sorry.” She shut the door behind her. He heard the lock click.

He sighed, turning towards Angelica. “I don't blame her as much as I blame Alex,” he admitted softly. “She's a victim in this too. She didn't choose to publish this, and I know how your sense of consent is warped after bad things. That doesn't mean that she'd without fault."

Angelica nodded. “I know.” She looked beaten down, exhausted. “I know. But everytime I see her, I see Eliza's broken heart, and it's so hard not to blame her entirely."

“How'd your dad take it?”

“Pretty well, actually.” She ran a hand through her hair. “He called 'Liza and told her that he wished she had told him about it so he wouldn't find out that way.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“I have to go find Alex.” He turned towards the stairs.

“No, you don't. You could be moved in by the time school’s out.”

John shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I have to talk to him.”

She nodded. “Please, go to Eliza. She's in so much pain. I can't bear see her like this. I'm doing all I can. From big sister to big brother, help me out here.”

He felt his heart give a painful twinge. “I know. I will. Angelica…god. This just…it's a nightmare. I keep thinking it's just a nightmare.”

“I know.” She gestured him down the hallway. “I'm going to talk with Maria.” He nodded and went back to Eliza's room, where she was sitting alone, staring at the papers again.

“Hi,” he said quietly, sitting next to her. “You okay?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I want Maria but…but I can't trust her anymore. I just can't.”

“I understand.” He wrapped an arm around her. She started to cry. He held her against his chest, rocking slowly, as if to calm a child. Before he knew it, he was crying to, burying his face into her hair and she was soothing him.  
They stayed like that, occasionally talking, mostly just providing comfort.

Angelica watched for a minute, tears streaming down her face as she caught John's eye. She nodded and left, letting the broken hearts be alone. It wasn't her place to interfere. Not right now.

He stayed with the Schuyler's until the sun began to turn the sky gold. Peggy brought up food, begging them to eat. Eliza nibbled on it but John couldn't bring himself to stomach it. He excused himself and asked Angelica to drive him…he almost said home, but it wouldn't be much longer. She agreed, hugging him tightly.

“You took care of her when I couldn't,” she whispered. No need to say who she was talking about. It was obviously Eliza. “You're a good man, John Laurens. You don't deserve this.”

He arrived at the apartment at 9:24.  
  
Alex was at the library. It was 9:24. So many people had lost respect for him and he couldn't understand why. He'd been honest, left no one with anything to blackmail him with. He'd saved himself. So why did it feel so awful?

“You fucking idiot!” Some slammed their hand down on the table. Alex jumped, slamming the book he hadn't really been reading shut. Jefferson, face red and eyes burning, stared at him. “What the hell where you thinking?”

The librarian shushed them. Alex stood up, looking up at him. “I saved my own ass,” he snarled. “What do you think?”

“You ruined everything!” he shouted. “Everything you ever had with him! Alexander Hamilton, have you ever heard about how he talks about you to me? To Laf? Even to Maria? God! He loved you so much!”

The librarian shushed them again, louder this time. “I needed to save myself! I did what had to be done!” Alex yelled. People where watching them now, curious. Some kids from school whispered to each other.

“It didn't need to be done, not to the extent you did it!” Jefferson's face was red and spiteful, eyes almost wet from rage. “I wouldn't have used that against you! I want John to be happy, I wouldn't have ruined that! James and Aaron wouldn't have either! God, and you call yourself smart!”

“Just because you were in love with him years ago doesn't give you the right to think you know better than I do!” It was a low blow but Alex didn't care.

Jefferson looked as if he'd been slapped. “No, what gives me the right is that I have never ever in all my years of knowing and caring about him have I ever even acried like I might hit him!”

Alex couldn't take it anymore. He punched him. Right in the face. Jefferson let out a cry and dropped, clutching his nose. Then Alex ran, just as James rounded the corner, looking horrified to see his boyfriend with blood pouring down his face. “Thomas!” he shouted, shoving Alex to the side with a strength he didn't think he possessed.

Alex kept running, out of the library, out into the night. Adrenaline pumped through his system and he didn't stop until he was the mile and a half back home. It was 10:32. He opened the door, shivering in the cool air. He was drenched in sweat.

Standing, framed by a starry sky pouring through their window, was John, his back facing Alex.

Slowly, he turned around, eyes taking in the blood on his hand, his heavy breathing, with a cold, flat expression. Then he sighed and in an empty, desolate tone said, “I saved every letter you wrote me.”

 


	72. Chapter 72

_"I saved every letter you wrote me."_

It started when he found the letter in his luggage in South Carolina. So beautifully written, delicately detailing an undying love, yet so simple, so mundane. In the letter, Alex had proclaimed himself to John, stating, “I am yours.”

_"From the moment I read them I knew you were mine."_

Alex would leave these little letters places he knew John would find them. Over the course of the first month, the difference was notable. The words were a little less fluid. But he always signed off with, "I am yours."

_"You said you were mine."_

A little over a month in, he stopped writing those words all together, ending every letter simply with, "Love, Alex." John never worried about it, chalked it down to stress and a busy schedule. In his heart, he knew it wasn't that, but he tried to block it out. Maybe, he thought, if he just ignored it, it wouldn't be true.

_"I thought you were mine."_

He had shown that first letter to Mark after Martha had been stabilized, smile wide and in love. With his sister and his love by his side, he'd been flying on his joy. Mark had handed the letter back to him with gentle hands and a sad expression. His smile was forced, tired, worried.

_"Be careful with this one, John. He will do what it takes to survive."_

When he had gotten back home after Martha's funeral, Alex was out studying. There was a note on the table, lying there so that John would see it the second he walked in. Oh, that handwriting he loved so much...

"Out studying, Love. I wish I could be here with you. Can't wait to kiss you. Can't wait to see that beautiful face again and I missed sleeping next to you. The world feels empty without you by my side. I am yours."

_“You and your words flooded my senses.”_

John had picked up the letter, pressing it to his chest. He smiled for the first time in a while, feeling as if his heart was going to burst with love.

_"Your sentences left me defenseless."_

Alex built the world up around him, creating a song of laughter and beauty beyond any John had ever known. He had such a gift for words.

_"You built me palaces out of paragraphs."_

Beautiful, shining white castles, all for them.

_"You built cathedrals."_

John had set the letter down, feeling terrible memories arise.

_"I was rereading the letters you wrote me."_

The world was black and white, and John felt numb. He had just gotten back from the Schuyler’s. Of course the thought had crossed his mind but this...he had never imagined Alex wouldn't be faithful, but this was all the proof he needed. This…this confession, this Pamphlet. He knelt by the bed, taking from under it a little box. In it were stacks of letters, all from Alex. He'd saved them all, right from the start. He'd thought he'd have them forever to smile about, to commemorate their love.

_"I was searching and scanning for answers in every line."_

John had spread them out, oldest to newest. His hands were shaking as he compared them.

_"For some kind of sign..."_

Anything. A slip up, a crossed out word. Anything that seemed “off”.

_"...of when you were mine."_

Were you ever mine?

_"My world seemed to burn."_

A whirlwind of memories swept John hardly an hour forward in time, crouching on the floor and sobbing so hard he thought his very lungs would come up with each rasping breath. In his chest, his heart was screaming, pounding against his chest in a painful rhythm, pushing itself through the barrier of ribs, as if trying to end itself, to end the pain.

 _Burn_.

A single letter.

That's all it took to confirm every single fear, all the evidence he needed. He didn't need to read the Pamphlet, the world didn't need to read it. Eliza had given it him earlier that day, saying with red eyes that Peggy had found it in Eliza and Maria’s room. She had told him there were more where that came from.

It read, _"Miss Maria Lewis, when should we meet again? I fear that John is growing suspicious of me. Is it the same with your Eliza? I admit I long for you inside my bed once again, and nothing fulfills my desires. I am yours, Alex."_

_I am yours..._

Stolen words.

"I found every letter you wrote her."  
  
He read them all, pouring over them, the Pamphlet, the letters.

Hours later, Alexander was standing in the room, John seven feet in front of him, facing the window. He couldn't look him in the eye. There were letters scattered around, littering the floor. His face was dry, unsurprisingly so because it felt as if he was already dead, and the dead cannot weep.

"You detailed how you brought this girl into our bed." He couldn't bring himself to say her name.

Alexander stepped forward, instantly realizing what had happened. "John...I can redeem myself. Give me a chance." He wasn't begging, wasn't pleading. Alexander Hamilton did not plead. He demanded. He demanded John open his life, bare his soul for him yet again, allow him to either hurt or save it.

"You can't clear your name. You have ruined our lives."He wanted to cry. Not in front of Alexander. He couldn't give in to Alexander.

Hours ago, John had been holding Eliza to his chest while she sobbed and sobbed. They both cried, cried over everything. The letters, the Pamphlet Alex had written, had sent out.

"Do you know what Eliza said, when she read what you'd done?"

_Eliza looked up at him, face tearstained and eyes red.  
"We are both Icarus and together they were our sun."_

John’s knees gave out under the weight of every emotion he wasn't able to feel past this barrier of ice building around his heart, and he stumbled forward, catching himself with his hands. Alexander moved forward, as if to catch him, but stopped when John started talking again, voice saturated with pain. "You and your words obsessed with her body. Your sentences drip with lust and you are unfaithful in every paragraph. How could you?"

 _"You-"_ the noise ripped through John's body like a hacking cough, a broken sob. Alexander felt the noise resonate in his soul, tearing him apart.

He started, "I-"

 _"You-"_ that terrible sound again, as if his heart was being pulled out.

"Love-"

 _"You."_ They both spoke at the same time, voices tapering out as soon as the harmony that once was rose again.

John looked up and, for hardly a second, Alexander thought he saw something in his eyes. John pushed himself up, slowly, steadily. Something about him seemed different. Assertive. For the first time in his life, he had the reins to himself. He was completely in control and Alexander was at his mercy, and he had none. Only the rush of wind and rain whirling into a hurricane inside the cavity where his heart used to be.

"I'm forcing you out of my Narrative-"

"John-" Alexander said, voice unsure. He looked...afraid.

"Let people know what happened to break my heart," John snarled, voice rising into screams of wind, "and know how you have torn us apart, and I’ll watch it all burn."

He was the hurricane, the memories of people drowning and screaming that haunted Alexander in his nightmares. He was all-powerful and merciless, a god rising above the ocean with storms in his hands. He was untouchable, beautiful, impossible.

Now Alexander was begging, straight out groveling, for the first time in many years, truly, truly pleading. "We don't have to end this. I'll do anything!”

What had he expected to happen? John wondered coldly. He met his brown eyes with emotionless green ones, green as the sea he’d wanted to drown in. "You should have thought about that before you had an affair.”

_Watch it all burn._

"I love you, John," Hamilton tried.

John shook his head, face stone cold. "You don't get to love me anymore.” He stood tall and unshakable against the indigo sky, silhouette strong and steady. If his cold rage hadn’t been directed at Hamilton, the sight would be beautiful. “The world has no right to my heart! Maria had no place in our bed! You don't get to repeat what I said!" A silver tear fell down his cheek, embodying the starlight that he used to dance in, the starlit dancer who had ensnared Hamilton. "I'm going to burn your memories, burn the letters that could have redeemed you." Cold and frozen rage turned to fire, burning brighter than the starlight catching perfect tears.  
  
Not those letters. He had poured his heart into those letters, poured everything he had into those. "No..."  
  
"You forfeit the right to my heart!" John shouted, all control thrown away. The hurricane had been released. He shoved Hamilton out of the room. "Your forfeit the place in our bed! Find somewhere else to sleep instead! You'll have only the memories of when you were mine." The last word was drawn out, sharp and cutting, unforgiving and final, then faded into something akin to a sob.  
  
"No. No, John," Hamilton pleading as he was shepherded towards the door. "No. You're my everything. You're my will to live! Please, I love you so much. I can make it up to you. I'll do anything!" He was sobbing, fighting back against John, fists hitting his chest with no intention of harm, and it killed them both inside.

John smiled, sad and broken, like a glass doll. The hurricane was gone now, leaving behind a shell of a boy. "Your words won't help you now, Hamilton.”

 _I hope that you burn_.


	73. Chapter 73

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: kind of a panic attack, purposeful misgendering

Alex didn't know where to go. It was past eleven and the cars that passed where few and the drivers would ignore him as he stood by the road, staring into nothingness.

What had just happened? What had he done? The pain in his chest didn't ease despite the passing time. John- he could still see him in godly glory, declaring himself independent, free. Of course Alex knew he deserved to be dumped, but he'd still hoped. Hoped and prayed for some miracle.

Finally, he decided he had to find somewhere to stay. The sky was dark now, the world empty. It was a long shot, he supposed, but perhaps Laf and Herc would be willing to shelter him, just for tonight.

Maybe?

Worth a try.

He arrived at their door at 11:28, shivering as chilly air seeped through his shirt. He’d hardly had time to grab his shoes before being pushed into the night, much less a jacket. He knocked on the door three times.  
Hercules Mulligan opened it, tired eyes narrowing into dark slits. “Alexander.” His tone was sharp, colder than ice.

“Mon amour?” Lafayette asked from behind him. “Is that him?” They sounded exhausted, angry. They stood up and Alex saw that they had been crying and he wondered if John had called them. They were wearing clothes that must be Herc’s by the size and their makeup was running, tracing dark lines across their face.

“Hi,” Alex said awkwardly, feeling the scrutiny in their eyes. Why and he thought this could work? The stupidity of his actions became clear now.

“What do you want, Alexander?” Herc asked, glaring. He crossed his arm, any trace of pity and gentleness gone.

He took a deep breath, pushing aside his pride. “Could I stay with you two? I got kicked out.”

“Who would have thought that your actions would have consequences?” Herc said sarcastically, voice cutting.

“I don't know where to go. I don't have the means to go on,” he repeated, disregarding Herc’s words. He stepped forward and immediately Lafayette was in front of him. They looked furious.

"You come into our home after what you've done and expect me to welcome you? To give you a place to sleep?" Their face was tignite and angry, eyes dark with rage. He had never heard this much pain and contempt in their voice. “You are not welcome here!”

Herc grabbed their arm. "Angel..."

They shook their head, wrenching their arm out of his grip and advancing on Alex. "You- you are a disaster, a hurricane wrapped in human skin." They couldn't look past their rage, everything they'd held in was spilling out. They wanted to make him hate them, whether a lot or a little, so they spoke without thinking. "You're a fucking hurricane, and you were John's, and you were mine, and you are going to be your own. You mindlessly destroy trying to get what you want, but you'll never be satisfied. God, I hope you’re fucking satisfied!"

Alex stepped forward, forcing them back. “Don't you dare-!” he started but they cut him off.

“Or what? You'll hit me like you almost hit John? You'll write a pamphlet?” They didn't sound angry anymore, just cold and disgusted and somehow it was one hundred times more aggravating.

Alex felt his heart speed up, a film of anger clouding his sight. “You need to stop,” he snarled.

They laughed coldly and turned to walk away, reaching to close the door. “The answer is no,” they said in that same tone. As the door began to close, Alex grabbed their arm, stopping them from walking away. They pulled and Alex felt his nails dig into their skin, felt the tremor through their arm at the pain.

“We aren't ending the conversation like this,” Alex snapped. When he took his hand away, there were traces of blood under his nails. It horrified him but he didn't let it show.

Laf looked back at him sadly. “Alexander…” There was pity in their voice, something he could never stand hearing. “It's over. Whatever fucked up game you were playing, you lost.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Alex snapped. “Shut up! I did what had to be done! I had to protect myself!”

“Protect yourself? You ruined everything!” they snapped back, holding their arm to their chest. Their voice had gotten louder with anger. They wanted to slap that self-righteousness off his stupid face but they refused to resort to violence. If he hit them, they wanted to know they were better than him. “Jesus, Hamilton, I respected you once!”

Alex stormed forward but they refused to move. Herc watched helplessly. “Can you not see? What I did was in my best interest and you can go tell your friend, Jefferson, that it was his fault!”

“How was it his fault? You published the damn thing! You and Maria both chose the affair!”

“You don't know jack shit, Lafayette! You don't know what I had to do, to sacrifice!”

They froze, eyes wide with disbelief. “Sacrifice? I loved you, Alexander! You might have thought it was an infatuation, but I loved you, and I let you go after you cheated on me! I pushed that aside and I learned to live with heartbreak because I wanted what was best for you! I didn't expose what you did to the world! I didn't destroy everything like you did! I healed, and it took a long time, but I healed myself!”

“How dare you?” Alex shouted, blood boiling. He didn't care about that damage his words would cause, couldn't bring himself to. “How fucking dare you, you ass?”

“Resorting to calling me an ass?” Lafayette asked incredulously, laughing hysterically. What else could they do? “What's next? Male pronouns?”

In his rage, he said the only thing that came to mind. “Don't fucking test me, Lafayette! I'll do what it fucking takes!”

They looked as if they'd been hit, stepping backwards. Herc looked ready to attack, hands balled into fists. No one knew what to say, no one- not even Alex- hadn't expected that answer. “Takes to what? Ruin your own life? Already got that one figured out! Make me loose any respect I had for you? You're accomplishing that real well!”

“God, how could I ever have dated you? You’re self absorbed, narrow minded, and delusional!” He was pressed in a metaphorical corner. He knew he was wrong. There was nothing left to do but fight as dirty as he could. It wasn't in his nature to forfeit a fight and he'd already lost one today. “You're so fucking repulsive, you know that? So enticed by your own mediocre problems that you thought you'd have to jump off a damn bridge! You're fucking rich, fucking selfish-“

“Alexander!” Herc snapped, finally stepping in. He looked absolutely livid, standing tall at Laf’s side. His hands were in fists at his side.

"This isn't your fight,” Laf said softly, eyes on Alex, but they were trembling. “Please…” He nodded and stepped back, conceding despite his shaking hands and face flushed with anger.

“You don't understand anything that's happening!” Alex yelled, face red as the blood on Laf’s arm, slowly staining their sleeve, making them want to cry to know that Alex- their Alex- had done this. “You have no idea what I'm going through!”

“You?” they shouted, finally breaking. “You? All of this is your fault! Yes, I'm sorry that you're suffering, and I'm even more sorry that your actions destroyed the lives of three other people! Have you thought about what John is feeling like? Eliza? Maria? You wrote that she tried to end it? Did it ever occur to you that maybe she didn't want what you did?”

“I never violated her!” he shouted. “Everything that happened was consensual! Not every affair makes a man a rapist!”

“She was abused, Alexander! Reynolds was a terrible man, and you were able to somehow twist that to pleasure yourself! You are despicable!” they retaliated angrily. “Once a cheater always a cheater!”

Alexander’s face changed from angry to downright furious. “You and I agreed that we were over that!”

“I lied!” they shouted. “I fucking lied, you happy?”

“I regret ever defending you against Seabury!” Alexander snarled.

They shook their head. "You don't bring him up! He's changed!"

“I regret ever meeting you! I wish I had left you to listen to Seabury and King, to know that you aren't normal, and I hope that know that you are hands down the most senseless, ridiculous, grotesque, idiotic person I have ever met! And I hope you know you were the worst boyfriend- even _Herc_ deserves better!”

The moment the words left his mouth, everything fell silent. Even the crickets stopped chirping. He knew he had gone way too far but he couldn't bring himself to care. Lafayette’s eyes went wide and they stared at him for a long moment, too shocked to say anything. It was a terribly stupid insult and they knew it wasn't true but the word…that word, “boyfriend” made everything worse.

“I may be all of that,” they said slowly, feeling their heart start to speed up dangerously, “ and I may be…what you said, but at least I'm not you. Anything is better than being you. Find somewhere else to sleep tonight.” Then they slammed the door.

Alex closed his eyes as he heard the click of the lock. Then he opened them, staring at the door for a minute and turned and walked into the night.

Back inside, Lafayette sunk to the floor, unable to breathe. They were shaking so hard that it felt like an earthquake was rocking them and their vision was dark and blurry. It was as if the fight sapped their strength, dragging them down. Their arm was bleeding slightly and bruising where it had been grabbed but it didn't hurt. Their mind was spinning, heart racing, flooding their ears with a too fast beat. They felt like they were dying and, distantly, identified it as a panic attack. Then they felt strong, steady arms around them, helping them stand.

“You're okay.” Through a grey mist, his voice was swallowed, only whispers escaping. “You're okay.” 

The voice was getting stronger, trying to fight through flashes of their father, screaming at them, of years of their friends and teachers and family talking about them, saying “ _his name is Lafayette_ ,” “ _he's_ _my_ _friend/cousin/nephew/son/boyfriend,”_ saying _“he,” “him,” “his”._

“You're okay.” 

Kids back at school in France taunting, jeering, jabbing at them for wearing makeup. Their mother's face crumpling as she turned away, trying to hide it when they finally told her. The first girl they had ever loved, Adrienne, moving away from them in disgust when they told her what they were. She had never understood, found them repulsive. Their classmates grabbed their arm until it bruised and Laf fought, punching and kicking, trying to get out of his grasp. They were screaming as his hands found their throat, his knuckles landed on their ribs, all the while a voice screaming, “ _he/him/his_!” They tried to fight it, to kick and shove them away but they couldn't, no matter how hard they fought. There was no order to these events, happening never and all at once, bur that's how panic attacks work, right?

Another voice joined in, southern accent seeping through perfect French. “ _Tu vas bien. Tu has bien, mon amie. Tu vas bien_.”

“You're okay.”

The words were pushing through the mist, a light guiding them back.  
“Tu vas bien.”

There was a hand, appearing to them, offering them help.

“You're okay.”

They reached to grab it.

_“Tu vas bien.”_

They took it

_“Tu vas bien.”_

Lafayette blinked slowly. There was a light shining into their eyes from a lamp, blinding them. They were laying in bed, curled into a ball. Their face was wet, with tears or sweat they weren't sure. They looked to their right. Thomas was sitting in a chair, holding their arm, wiping away the cuts Alex had left, under his breath he was muttering the words, “ _tu vas bien_.” He looked exhausted and his nose was swollen. His hands were shaking.

They slowly turned their head to the left. Herc was asleep on the edge of the bed. He looked tired, even in sleep, and his face was stained with tears. What had happened?

“Thomas,” they whispered, turning to the right against, throat hoarse as if they had been screaming. “Thomas.”

Thomas looked up, a smile splitting his face. “Laf!” he exclaimed, lowering his voice as Herc stirred. “Oh god!” He embraced them tightly, letting out a shaking breath. “Oh my god.”

“I'm okay,” they soothed. “Thomas, it’s fine.”

Thomas shook his head, fisting their shirt and burying his face in their shoulder. “No,” he choked. “No. It's not…it's not fine. Nothing is fine.”

They furrowed their brow, wondering what he was talking about. “You okay?”

He shook his head, clinging onto them like they were the only thing holding him together. “Just…everything…” He took a shuddering breath, smiling tightly against their shoulder.

Laf stroked his hair, feeling the short section where it had been shaven months ago and toying with it a little. They were puzzled. “How long was I…?” Asleep? Unconscious? It couldn't have been more than a half hour. Right?

“I don't know,” he admitted, pulling back and cupping their face gently. “Jesus, it's been an hour maybe.”

They blinked disbelievingly. “An hour?”

“It's almost 1am now, Laf.”

“What?” They couldn't believe it, but looking at the clock on the wall, they saw it to be true. It was 12:57 in the morning. “ _Mon Dieu_.” My god. “ _Qu’est-il arrivé_?” What happened?

“ _Préférez-vous el français maintenant_?” Thomas asked. Do you prefer French right now?

“No,” they said softly. “No. What happened?”

Thomas’ face darkened. “You'll have to ask Herc for the full recount but he called me up basically hysterical. Alex…happened, and you collapsed, started having a panic attack. He got you to the couch by the time I got here. It was pretty bad. You were just staring at nothing and shaking, whispering, and then…” He shook his head, voice suddenly getting very soft. “You just went still. I don't know if you passed out or fell asleep. You scared us so much. Sam’s been up searching different things that might have caused it.”

The story left a bitter feeling in their mouth and they closed their eyes, trying not to think about Hamilton. “I'm sorry,” they whispered _. “Je suis désolé.”_

_“Ne t’excuse pas_ ,” Thomas soothed. “Don't apologize.”

Laf smiled tightly, wiping their eyes. “Thomas…I…” What was there to do? “I don't know what to say…”

“You don't have to say anything,” he said softly, leaned forward and pressing their foreheads together. “We love you, Laf.”

“I love you too, _mon frére_ ,” they whispered, clutching his sleeves, keeping him close to them. Thomas wrapped his arms around them, letting them start to cry into his chest, letting them break down. “God…Alex…Thomas, he…” There weren't words to describe the sense of utter and overwhelming betrayal. “He…”

_“Tu vas bien_ ,” Thomas murmured. “ _Tu vas bien_. I know.”  
  
The bed shifted as Herc raised his head. “Laf?” he asked disbelievingly.

Laf turned towards him, a smile splitting their face. “ _Mon amour_!” 

Herc embraced them, holding them tightly as his chest heaved with shaking breaths. “Oh dear god,” he whispered, starting to cry. “Angel…”

“I'm okay, my love” they whispered. “Don't cry.”

Herc laughed through his tears. “Jesus Christ, I was terrified. How long have you been awake?”

“Only ten minutes,” they assured. “God, I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Laf laughed breathily, pushing him back so they could kiss him with all their might. The two of them kissed like there was no tomorrow, but they kissed like everything would be alright.

“I love you,” Laf whispered, pulling back. “I'm okay. You're okay.”

Herc wiped away his tears, muffling a sob. “You're okay.”

"Sleep, Laf,” Thomas murmured gently, interrupting the moment. “I'll be here when you wake up.”

“I have work in five hours,” Herc said apologetically. “If I'm not here when you wake up, let me just say that I love you so much.”

“Lay with me,” they said softly, moving over.

Herc climbed into bed, wrapping his arms around their waist and tucking his chin over their shoulder. “I love you,” he breathed, ignoring Thomas, who was gazing at the pair with tender eyes.

Laf smiled, vision beginning to blur. “I love you,” they breathed. “Both of you.”

Within moments, they slipped into a dreamless sleep, safe in Herc’s arms, away from the hurricane.

 


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayeeee, it's been a year and a day since I've started this. Thanks for sticking with me!

John didn't know what he had expected when he went to school the next day, but he certainly hadn't expected Thomas Jefferson to come up to him before class and hug him. He wasn't going to object, however, as he did miss their friendship more than he liked to admit and was, quite honestly, in need of comfort.

“You okay?” he asked softly, patting his back. Thomas pulled away and John saw how utterly exhausted he looked.

He nodded, smiling tightly. His nose was swollen and bruised and his eyes were bloodshot with exhaustion. He'd already filled John in on Lafayette and Hamilton’s fight. “I'm alright. Are you?” His eyes held a tenderness John hadn't seen for years, a remnant of their friendship.

John shrugged. “I don't know right now.”

“Are you grieving or anything?” he asked softly.

It was strange. What Hamilton had done hurt in a way nothing else ever had, but he wasn't grieving. He didn't cry over their break-up, or over the Pamphlet- which he'd almost memorized from going over it so much. No, he wasn't grieving. The only thing inside of him was ice. It was numb, a burning numbness, like when you stuck your hand in the snow for too long, and distantly he wondered if he was freezing to death like his mom, but from the inside out. “I don't know,” he said finally.

The lesson started with a lecture about the history of American politics. Washington's eyes slid over the rows of students, hovering on Lafayette's empty seat with concern before landing on John with a mix pity and pride. After about ten minutes, people stopped listening, whispering in groups, eyes on John. Once or twice he caught his name.

It was weird, being the center of attention, and he didn't like it. He'd never really been the type to try and grab the spotlight- that had always been for Hamilton, and before that, Martha. There were eyes on him as he took notes, as he watched Washington talk, trying to ignore everyone.

Thomas handed him some lead for his pencil. He hated it. Maybe Hamilton had loved it, loved to bask in the glory of eyes and eyes only for him, but John felt hot and uncomfortable. He lowered his head into his hands and waiting for the class to be over.

He didn't know what he expected when class finally ended but it wasn't Washington calling him over with a sad expression. Thomas squeezed his arm and went to meet James in the hallway.

“Mister Laurens, may I have a word?” Washington asked, gesturing to an empty seat across from his desk.

“Yessir.” John sat down, fidgeting with his hair. He avoided eye contact.

Washington leaned forward, a fatherly look John hadn't seen for years in his wise old eyes. “John- may I call you that?”

“Yessir.”

“John, I realize that what happened was…son, it is inexcusable what he did, and I trust you know that.” Washington sighed, relaxing his shoulders to appear more approachable.

“Yessir,” John repeated. He didn't want to talk about this, would rather push everything into his very bones and ignore it.

Washington raised his eyebrows. “John, listen to me, I need you to open up a little. What you say to me is confidential. With the pamphlet, you are aware of the publicity it's gaining?”

“No, sir.”

“It has over 50,000 views.”

John closed his eyes. 50,000 people read what Alex had done. Oh god. “I had no idea it would be that many.” A sick feeling rose in him. “Maria Lewis, the girl he slept with, she's a victim in this. She can't go to school without being called a slut and being asked how much she costs.”

Washington closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. “I met the poor girl. She's so kind- she isn't innocent of course- but, I just can't imagine…it's horrible. Is everyone else okay?”

John shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. “Nothing's alright.”

“Tell me, son.” His voice was soft, parental.

“Lafayette…” Washington's sudden increase in attentiveness did not go unnoticed. “They and Alex had a massive fight. He misgendered them on purpose and they broke down- I guess it reminded them of France.” He gave a quick run through of what he knew and watched Washington's eyes darken with concern.

“They didn't call anyone?” he asked when John finished.

“I don't think they wanted to answer the questions, expose the…the affair even further. I don't think they thought Laf would want that either.”

Washington sighed longer and louder than John had ever heard a human sigh before. “That kid doesn't deserve this,” he said softly. “None of you do. Son, I can tell you with absolute certainty that I have never had students such as you all in my long career.” He laughed sharply.

“Is that a bad thing, sir?” John asked, smiling despite himself.  
Washington shrugged. “A little. I do enjoy it- having so many incredible and talented kids- but I wish it could come without the constant trouble you always seem to be in.”

“As do I, sir.”

Washington leaned forward, face looking suddenly very serious. “John, Alexander told me about the state your family is in.” John put his head down in his hands.

“It's alright,” Washington said softly. “I will do what is in my power to help you.”

John looked up, stunned. “Really?”

“Of course. I have grown to care for you all as if you were my own, I will help you when you need it. Now, I have to meet with Ben- Professor Franklin. Send Lafayette my best wishes. If you ever wish to speak, I will always be here.”   
John smiled slightly, nodding. “I will, sir. Thank you.”

“It's not a problem, son.” He patted his shoulder. “Take care of yourself and your friends.”

“I will, sir.” For the first time since he could remember, it felt like he had a father. Perhaps a distant, strange one, but a father nonetheless, and he loved it. He loved that feeling of knowing someone cared about him, knowing he wouldn't be beaten and disowned. It was new and wonderful.

The next classes passed quickly. He kept replaying Washington's words in his head, smiling slightly at the table. It was incredible and new to him, having someone who was almost a father, who was trying to be one. But…but he knew about John's family, one of his biggest secrets. Hamilton had told him. Was he incapable of keeping his mouth shut? 

His heart ached. God, he still loved him. He still loved him. John doodled absentmindedly on a piece of paper, letting his hand just move however if wanted. When he looked down, Alex was looking up at him with soft eyes and a perfect smile. He tore the up and threw it into the bin.

Thomas and James waited for him at the gate. They'd decided to go check on Laf. None of them spoke as they walked out to the lot to wait for a cab. John didn't have a car still and Thomas and James couldn't afford to have theirs fixed. John watched them leaned towards each other and lean away again.

“You can hold hands,” he said quietly. “It doesn't bother me.”

James looked over at him, smiling sadly. Thomas took his hand. “John, I'm sorry. I never imagined…have you seen him today?”

John shook his head, dread rising. “He's at school?”

Thomas nodded. “He skipped out on Washington and came for homework later. He's a mess, man. I think he slept on a bench in the park.”

Guilt twisted John's stomach and he looked down. “Oh.” He didn't want to feel guilt or pity for Hamilton but maybe it was better than the empty numbness he was slowly becoming accustomed to.

“It wasn't your fault,” James said. “He deserves to live with the consequences- especially after Lafayette…not that he didn't deserve it before, of course.”

“What was that?” came a voice from behind the three of them. John closed his eyes, refusing to look at Hamilton.

“You heard him,” Thomas snarled, turning. “Do you know what your words did?”

“I do, actually,” Hamilton said dismissively, but there was regret hidden in those words. John heard him get closer. He turned around.

Hamilton did look terrible. His eyes were dark and red from lack of sleep, his hair was unbrushed and unwashed, he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but his eyes still sparkled. _And I still love him,_ John thought. _I still love him._

“You should care!” James snapped at him. “You were just out of line, Hamilton. So fucking out of line.”

“They were attacking me,” Hamilton said with a shrug. John cot the tremble in his voice. “They overreacted.”

“No they weren't,” James snapped. “You misgendered them on purpose!”

Hamilton snorted. “It was one time.”

Jefferson laughed, harsh and sharp. “Oh yes, and you almost hit John once and it put a huge crack in your relationship.” John winced. He wished Thomas wouldn't bring that up.

“Yes, but I was defending myself against them. They were attacking me- it's not the same thing.” His offhand voice made something boil in John's chest even though he knew it was an act. It was a rage he'd never felt towards Hamilton before but, again, it was refreshing to feel something, even if it was this.

Then Thomas was pushing him against the gate, holding Hamilton up by his jacket.“They,” he snarled, slowly, precisely, “were not attacking you. They were speaking the truth. The right amount of truth- not this excessive bullshit you tell.” He let Hamilton drop.

“I was doing what was best for me,” he snapped, regaining his posture, eyes never even brushing over John. It was if he wasn't even there. “You wouldn't understand.”

Finally, John could bear it no more. “You did what was best for you?” he shouted. “ _You?_ You published everything that the world didn't need to know! There are over 50,000 views on that fucking blog now! Everyone knows my business, what should have been kept secret! Eliza was outed to her family, you came so fucking close to outing Mark, who my dad would have killed, you outed me to everyone my father knows, you exploited the death of my sister, and Maria is being harassed at school! They're calling her a slut and whore, Hamilton, they're calling her horrible things and asking how much they'd have to pay to sleep with her! So yeah, maybe you did what was “best” for yourself but you ruined our lives! Did you ever even care about Maria? Did you ever even care about me?”

Hamilton stared at him for a second, mouth slightly open. Then he said, “I never loved Maria, and you were…you weren't right for me.”

John but his lip, taking a steady breath. “You get the apartment,” he said slowly. “I'm moving out to live with the Schuyler's. Share it with Maria, and God knows I don't blame her nearly as much as you. If you ever do anything to hurt her, I swear on my life that I will make yours hell.” He turned away, shoulders starting to shake. 

“We both know that you don't value your life enough to do that.”

John closed his eyes, trying to keep his voice steady. It was a low blow, even coming from someone who used purposeful misgendering in arguments. “That might be so, but I value myself over you. I swear on my brother's life.”

Behind him, Thomas said, “I think your time here is up. I'd leave if I were you.”

“I'll be out from 6-9, move out then. I don't want to have to see you,” Alex said to John. “How could I have ever loved you?”

Then he walked away.

As Thomas’ voice faded away, Alex felt like crying. He hadn't meant what he said. He loved John still, loved him and hated him and he knew that he- Alex- was in the wrong, that what he had done was never going to pass. And Lafayette…

Oh god, what had he done?

He got to the boys bathroom as quickly as he could and locked the stall door, letting tears drip down his cheeks. What had he done? He had spoken without thinking, written without thinking, destroyed everything without thinking. Oh god. He let out a sob. Oh god! Inside, he was starting to crumble, starting to break in pieces. He unlocked the door, wiping his face on his sleeve, and ran.

His feet and heart knew where he was going and he followed them, ditching school and running down to the beach where he had met John all those months ago. He didn't notice the distance that passed, the exhaustion in his bones. He stumbled down the steps and collapsed onto the sand. Everything was wrong.

He loved John, he needed John, and John hated him, didn't need him. Everything was ruined, everything had been destroyed. And all because of him, because of his stupid mistake. He'd lost Lafayette, he'd lost Herc, John, the Schuylers, Maria, even James and Jefferson. Everyone was gone.

He was alone again.

 


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry that this is late- I've been super busy.

School was out for the day and Alex hadn't gone back. He'd passed the hours on the beach, waiting out families and couples.

It was dull, colorless, flat. Being here, walking the path that lead him to John didn't feel real. Finally, he decided to walk back to his apartment, it was his now. John would be there in two hours to pick up his stuff. As he walked, rain seeped through the grey clouds.

“This is so fucking cliche,” Alex muttered, covering his head with his backpack. For once, he welcomed the storm. It didn't bother him. The cold water streaming down his back was comforting.

Maybe this was how John felt when he’d walked into the ocean.

He got to the apartment at 4:23. The letters from last tonight where scattered around, every single one he had ever written. He knelt amidst them, picking one up and feeling a sob rise in his throat.

_Cold in my Profession, warm in my friendships…._

He set it down and picked up another one.

_My Dearest Laurens…_

There were so many, all with parts of his soul poured into them.

_I have told you, and I have told you truly…_

So fucking many. And then there were the ones he'd never given John, the notebook he had written in when he had first watched that boy dance on the beach. It was still in the drawer. He stood up and took it out, tracing the old cover with his fingers. It was filled with crappy sketches and beautiful words. Alex hugged it to his chest, feeling the tears pour like the rain on the roof.

He decided to start packing everything up, best have John in and out as fast as possible. He started with the letters, placing them back in the carven box and setting them carefully aside. Next, he took all the paints from the extra room, carefully arranging them in boxes along with the canvases and easel and…he started to cry even harder. There was a painting of that house they had stayed in, the little one on the beach, from a back view.

It stood in all its glory, dark exterior standing out against the dark yet illuminated sea. Everything was flawless, from the sand to the stars. There were two small silhouettes next to it, holding hands. Through the windows, you could see the bisexual pride flag. Alex put it on the dresser, wanting to keep it. In exchange, he tore out the first and last things he wrote about John. The first thing he wrote when he saw him, and the last thing he wrote before they met.  
He placed the pages in the box along with the letters and sent back to packing, handling ever painting with the upmost care.

There were ones of Lafayette, staring off, lost in thought, laughing. There were study's of them in notebooks, of them walking, jumping, running. There were ones of Hercules Mulligan, of his wide smile, him looking at Laf, him sewing, baking, of him and Laf sitting together, holding hands. There were ones of Alex, of him asleep, hunching over a computer, laughing, more of him sleeping. Alex didn't realize he was smiling through his tears as he looked them over. It was heartbreaking and beautiful, seeing himself through someone else's eyes. John drew him as if he was an angel, beautiful eyes instead of exhausted ones, messy hair like a halo, his curved nose looked regal, his tired head could hold a crown.

Then there were ones of Jefferson, of him rolling his eyes, looking annoyed, of him and James laughing together, asleep on each other's shoulders, holding hands. Ones of the Schuyler sisters hugging, laughing, talking, ones of Eliza playing her piano with slender hands, of Angelica shouting at Hercules, of Peggy downing shots or looking annoyed. Ones of Maria standing awkwardly, of her and Eliza dancing, holding hands, curled up together. They were flawless in every way, perfect and yet so wrong, so happy.

The next picture he took out was a watercolor that made him feel sick to his stomach, made his heart stop. _Eleanor Laurens_ , it was called. It was of his mother.

She was lying amidst empty bottles and snow lilies, surrounded in a white dress. There was red, bright and terrible, on her feet, on the ground- blood. Her eyes were painted lightly blue over her beautiful brown eyes, giving a glazed appearance. Her cheeks and lips and fingers were blue and her last breath was immortalized, frozen in the air.

Alex let out a sob, turning away. What had he done? Oh god, what had he done? He tried to push all his shame away. What had happened had happened and there was no changing that now.

He sighed and began to pack up the clothes, folding them neatly into John's old suitcase, trying to fit them all in. Surprisingly, it was quite easy. It was the paintings he had carefully lain on top that began to make the case bulge. When he was done, at 5:23pm, he sat down on the sofa, leaning back and sighing. It was quiet, empty, lonely.

A knock on the door broke the silence. Alex stood, listening to the rain fall for a moment before walking over to open it. Angelica Schuyler, standing under a pink umbrella was waiting there. Her dark hair was plastered to her face as the wind blew the water in every direction. When she saw him, she smiled.

"Angelica," he greeted, pleased to see her. He was sure that she could see the sense in his actions, with how similarly their minds worked. Behind her, he spotted Peggy and his momentary relief faded. “You have to understand what I’m struggling here to do.”

Angelica stepped back as he extended a hand for her umbrella, gesturing her inside. Her eyes were dark, her face stormier than the sky. "I'm not here for you." Her voice was loud, drowning out the storm like waves crashing in the ocean. "I know my sister like I know my own mind, and you will never find anyone as trusting or as kind, and one million years ago I promised her I'll always be by her side, and I’ll be damned if I lied about that.” She stormed off, gripping Peggy’s shoulder tightly as she did so, leaving her little sister to sat what she had to.

"Angelica..." Alex said slowly, looking taken aback. “Peggy?”  
Peggy crossed her arms. "You have invented a new kind of stupid, a damage you can never undo kind of stupid. What? You thought this was a good idea? Pretty fucking stupid. You took something so few people have- a truly beautiful relationship- and destroyed it by having an affair and when people accused you of it, you confessed to it in the worst way possible! You were so scared of what your enemies could do to you, but you're the only enemy you ever seem to loose to. Jefferson said what we all thought- you were fucking stupid! So yeah, congratulations!" She started to walk away towards her sister, fading into the rain only feet down the steps. Alex ran out after her, immediately soaked.

"It was an act of sacrifice!" Alex shouted, desperate for her not to go. He couldn't bear have someone else turn their back on him.

She froze and slowly turned back towards him. “Sacrifice?" she shouted, voice shrill and disbelieving. Alex shrunk back. "Maria languished in a loveless affair, she stayed only because of you. She told me she's looks at you and only thinks what you has done without our lives and what has it gotten us? We have to brush the tears of your mistake away, cause John’s with us now and he's going to stay, and you know what we’re here to do?"

He didn't want to hear anymore, he didn't want to face the reality of his decision. He didn't want to hear that Maria was unhappy, he didn't want to hear about John.

"Oh, we’re not here for you,” Angelica cut in, drawing herself up. She was hardly taller than him but appeared to disappear into the clouds. "I love my sisters more than anything in life, and I will choose their happiness over mine every time! Put whatever we had aside, I'm standing at her side. You could never be satisfied! God, I hope your satisfied!" Then she turned, throw her hands up. The pink of her umbrella seemed grey in the lifeless surroundings. “Congratulations!” she shouted. “For the rest of your life, every sacrifice you make is to fix this damage, it's up to you to make it right. Congratu-fucking-lations!”

And she disappeared, storming into the rain, which seemed to retreat in fear of her. Peggy scampered after her, casting a venomous look behind her.  
Alex stared after her, head dropping. He didn't know what he had expected from her visit. He had been stupid to think that he might receive praise or support. And he had thought he was so smart. Every day seemed to be proving him more and more wrong.

He sighed, grabbing an umbrella. He had to get out before John arrived, had to find somewhere to shelter just long enough for him to leave. The library was the first place that came to mind, but it was so far, so he climbed a tree out behind the house and sat shivering in the branches as the a car drove up. Out of it climbed Peggy, John, Lafayette, and Herc. Lafayette was walking hunched over, Herc close behind them, keep an arm around them. Guilt stirred in Alex’s stomach.

What had he done?

 


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for abuse, please be wary if you're sensitive

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks.

It had been two weeks since the Pamphlet, since the letter. Eliza hardly left her room, leaving it to her sisters to bring her food and water. She felt guilty, of course, but there simply wasn't enough strength in her, mentally or physically, to care. She sunk into a state of grieving where the words didn't reach, where it felt easier to swim down. 

She spent hours pouring over those letters, searching and scanning for anything that might prove that Maria hadn't wanted the affair, something to prove her innocent. She spent full days in the office, looking over sketchbook after sketchbook filled with drawings of her and her sisters, every detail perfect yet so wrong. These were dated back during the last weeks, drawings of them sleeping next to each other, them kissing. She'd made these while sleeping with Alexander. The thought disgusted her. What had she done wrong? Why wasn't she enough? It's not enough.

She had cried to Angelica, cried as her sister held her for hours, trying to assure her that nothing was her fault. Why was it so hard to believe that? There must have been something she had done to warrant Maria's affair, there must have been something.

It hurt so much to walk downstairs and see the dead, exhausted look in Angelica's eyes before she slipped on her armor and put on a strong face for her little sister. It hurt to see that she was hurting Angelica, hurting Peggy. The two people she loved more than anyone in the world, and she was hurting them. So she tried, she really did, to put the past behind her and start to move past Maria.

Eliza started to finally go to bed without crying herself to sleep, to eat on a normal schedule, get out of her room. She would fall, inevitably, and Peggy and Angelica would pick her up. They were always there and it broke her heart as much as it warmed it.

John, on the other hand, had felt cooped up, felt the nervous energy pressing and strangling him with every minute that passed. He turned to running, running across the campus, down to Laf and Herc’s place, down to the beach. He hated it, hated how it left him sore and sweaty, but at least in distracted him from the ever present numbness inside him, the ice slowly swallowing his heart up.

He knew that while Eliza was healing- or trying too-, he was getting worse. He didn't want to play dumb with himself, didn't want to convince himself that what he did to himself was by any means healthy. Running on empty, days without a proper meal and miles crossed under his feet. He was lightheaded most days, exhausted. But he just couldn't bring himself to sit down long enough to eat, to rest. He was pacing constantly, moving, as if he could outrun everything that had happened, as if movement would thaw him insides.

He knew how worried Angelica was, not just for Eliza, but also for him. He saw that face he knew so well from years of use slip away when she thought no one was looking. He saw the darkness on Peggy’s bright face, saw how she watched him out of the corner of her eyes, how she also watched Eliza.

He hated being the subject of worry and pity and tried to get out of the house as often as possible, usually going to Herc and Laf’s before running back to the beach. They worried, he knew, about him, about everything.

At least the two of them were still together, though perhaps it wasn't worth it. Herc would bake and sew, often spending long hours at work and coming home late. Laf missed him as it seemed that he was hardly ever home. When he was, Herc was irritable and exhausted, often shutting himself away in the office turned sewing room. Laf would sit outside the door for an hour, begging him to take a break, fretting over him working himself to death.

Because they couldn't help him, their attention was fixated on both Samuel Seabury, who often disappeared out or into his room, and John. The three of them studied while Herc sewed long hours into the night, coming out with bleeding fingers and bags under his eyes. Once and awhile he'd stoop to kiss Laf’s head before disappearing again and Laf's eyes would darken and their grip on their pencil would tighten until John touched their hand, reminding them to loosen their grip.

“I miss him,” they confessed one late night, sitting outside. Laf absentmindedly munched on some chips the two were sharing.

John squeezed their arm. “I know.” I know you miss him, I know he isn't okay, I know you aren't okay, I know I'm not okay.  
“Everything's just…fallen apart since Hamilton.” It was taboo now, to call him by his first name. No one did it. They shuddered despite the heat, and bit their lip.

John nodded understandingly. What Hamilton had said to them had left some mental scar, permanent and painful, cut with broken trust into their being. “You shouldn't listen to anything he said to you,” he murmured. “Don't let it get to you.”

They smiled. “I'm not- letting it get to me, that is.” They looked away, as if not able to bear the lie.

John took their hand, giving a sad grin. “I know you like I know my own mind, Laf. Don’t think that I buy that for one second.” He pulled up their sleeve, running has fingers over the bruises and scabs Hamilton had left on their arm.

“Don't worry about me,” they insisted, pulling their hands gently away. “John…mon amie, when was the last time you rested? Like actually rested. Slept for over seven hours, ate three meals, and ran less that five miles? Why do you run anyways?”

He shrugged. “Probably five days, maybe six. I don't know why I run. It distracts me, I guess, like I can forget about everything for a while.”

Laf stared at him, concern written across his face. They held out the chips, waiting while he took a handful. “You need to take better care of yourself. You and Herc both…”

“So what are you going to do about Herc?” He didn't want to discus himself. He didn't want to have this conversation.

Laf nodded, realizing that he didn't feel comfortable taking the subject further. “I don't know. I want to talk to Thomas, see if he has any advice.”

Thomas and James. Perhaps the only stable and healthy relationship left out of all of them. James had gotten a job at the library stocking shelves and sorting books. It was quiet, calming, which he loved, and he didn't have to talk to many people. The job didn't pay well but it was what it was. 

A few times a day on weekends, Thomas would drop by with a coffee and a snack, coming to sit by his boyfriend for a while, threading his hands through his short hair while James ate. On weekdays, they sat in the back room. James would sort and check in books while Thomas would quiz him on test subjects.

Alternatively, during the long hours of the night when Thomas would be so stressed about school that he could barely breathe, James would make a cup of lavender and black tea and sit next to him, forcing the drink into his hands and closing the computer or textbook. He would quietly tell him that he was the most intelligent person he knew and there was no possible way he would fail that test or that essay. He would kiss down his cheek and neck and guide him to their bedroom, kissing down his back or hold his hands until he fell asleep.

Then there was Alexander Hamilton, shunned by the school. The debate team replaced him with Aaron Burr, no one spoke to him, responded to him, or sat by him. He hated to admit it, but he was lonely.

There was something empty inside of him, so deep and so dark that nothing could fill it. His perfect grades, praise from teachers, warm food, coffee, twelve hours of sleep; all of it left him empty and exhausted, unable to be warmed. 

He'd see John walking between classes sometimes, resist the urge to run to him, beg for forgiveness. But for what? So he could give in? So he could apologize for doing what was right? No. The Pamphlet was the best he could do to make everyone understand that he wasn't to blame, that he- despite what he had done- was honest, a good man. But, again, he was lonely.

The apartment felt cavernous and endless, dark and empty halls, an empty room, an empty bed. No one woke him up late on weekends with a kiss and breakfast. No one hugged him from behind and coaxed him to bed on nights when he simply couldn't sleep. No one was there when thunder rolled in the distance and the feeling over storms enveloped him. Not for the first, he was alone. For the first time, he hated it.

Back in the Caribbean, he had been alone for weeks after his mother died. He had enjoyed it, embraced it. He was able to drown himself in it, to sink so far in determination and grief that he was blind to all else. When his cousin killed himself, he stayed in the house for days, basking in silence. After the hurricane, after people had stopped screaming, it had been silent. No one came to check on him, no one spoke, lost in their own grief. He covered his wounds in an impenetrable scab that had stayed on for so long.

This time, he was fresh and bleeding and the silence of his home tore at him with feral claws and deadly teeth. He was floating in a sea of misery, of regret, and he tried to bury himself, use schoolwork and life to pull himself down, and yet he couldn't.

He couldn't.

He hadn't seen Maria since the Pamphlet. Often, he would wonder how she was doing, where she was staying, but had no contact with her. He hadn't even been able to call her with guilt acting as a collar, choking him, but today, when there was so much grief and pain in his body and mind, he felt the need to check on her. After all, it was partially his fault.

_Alex: It’s me  
_

_Alex: I don't know if you've deleted my contact or blocked me but I want to check in  
_

_Alex: Maria, I know that you're mad at me and I understand, but you have to admit that this wasn't all on me, but rather the two of us  
_

_Alex: I feel bad, and I want to make sure you're okay  
_

_Alex: Maria?_  
  
Maria set the phone down on the table, looking up at the vending machine and sighing. She was at an old, quiet Subway. It was mostly empty, cold and dirty. He didn't know what he'd done to her. How could he not know?

Today alone, seven people had come up to her and asked how much she costs, harassed her about it. Sure, she'd been catcalled or groped just on the street, but these people knew her. She wasn't an object to them- they'd taken classes together! People stopped and watched and no one did anything. Why would they?

She was the slut, the whore who had ruined four peoples life's, if not more. It was her fault, her fault for pretending Alex was her boyfriend, for getting the alcohol. It was her fault. But she didn't publish the Pamphlet- he did. So maybe…

“Miss Maria,” came a slow drawl as the door opened. “My, my, my, I was not expecting to see you here.” James Reynolds, in a white  shirt and a backwards hat, strolled in. His smile grew wider when he saw her exhausted and hurt demeanor.

Maria raised her head, sighing. She didn't need this right now, but she just couldn't bring herself to care. “What do you want, James?”

“Have you gotten the news?” he asked, white teeth glinting. “The court ruled in my favor.”

How? How could that be? The evidence against him and been so high…But the Pamphlet, oh… and of course he'd know the judges and the lawyers. She swallowed and met his eyes, feeling that trickle of fear. “Why?” she asked softly. “You almost killed me…”

“The Pamphlet, Love. The lawyers took it into account and I've been cleared. I may have also provided...say, a little extra influence.” Maria gaped at him and he held up a hand, tutting. “I don't know how it worked either, but I'm a free man.” He sat down in front of her, smiling deviously. “With that said, I've missed you. I mean, I told you, didn't I? Everybody leaves you.”

She nodded, admitting defeat. She was so tired, and didn't want to fight anymore. “I know,” she breathed softly. There was an odd comfort in this old game they'd played. “You were right.”

He nodded in approval. “Shall I buy you a drink?”

“I'd appreciate it, Reynolds,” she muttered, keeping her head down.

“No,” he crooned in sickly voice, yanking her head up by her hair. “No, no, no, my Darling. James, not Reynolds.” 

She felt bile rise in her throat but smiled anyways and said, “my apologies, James.”

He nodded, evidentially pleased, and stood to fetch drinks. A bell tolled somewhere outside, loud and steady. 9:00pm. A bell can mean many things, a beginning, an end. Today, it meant both.

Maria fiddled with her phone, tempted to call Alexander and tell him what was happening. Would he respond? Would he tell Eliza? Would he care?

_Everybody leaves you._

He'd ignore it, most likely. He'd go on living without being offered money by his classmates, without finding notes in his bag saying “slut”, and “whore”.

_Everybody leaves you…_

She set the phone aside, putting her face in her hands. Just then, the phone pinged. She lifted her head to look at it.

_JohnLaurens: Hi, we haven't heard from you in weeks. I'm worried_

She hesitated before quickly typing back.

_Maria: you shouldn't be_

A long hand snatched the phone from her. Reynolds settled down with two large sodas. “You don't get a phone,” he purred. “I can't have you texting any boys- or girls, I suppose. However…” His smile was vomit inducing and terrible. “I’ll always be up for a three-way, Doll.”

She lowered her head, taking a sip of the soda. “Of course, James.” Standard procedure. Let him have his way and don't be hurt. The simplest thing in the world. He ran a hand through her hair, petting her like a dog. She didn't move away, stayed frozen to her seat. Her heart pounded, pushing fear through her veins because he was back. He was back. He was back and he was here for her.

He was back, but he could help her. He wouldn't leave. He'd never leave her, so was he really so bad? She felt her body relax. He wanted her, he craved her. He payed for food, for clothing, for her art supplies. And all she'd have to do is listen and obey.

Listen and obey. She'd have to sleep with him, she'd have to go to his buddies and dance for them, draw them, sit on their laps and let them rub their slimy bodies against her soft skin. It was a small price to pay.

Once, long ago, she had pulled back as he tried to kiss her. It had been the first time he'd slapped her. Once more, she'd accidentally knocked over a cup and broke it while he was hooking up with two other girls in their bed. Bruises for days. But it was worth it…right?

She had a house, a bed, so many clothes, art supplies, and her drive her to school, wait for her after. He was good to her.

He was good to her.

“Darling,” came a singsong voice through her thoughts. Reynolds was watching her, a sickeningly fake look of concern on his face. “Lets go home.” 

Home, she thought blearily. His home. She felt light head and didn't understand why. She stood silently and stumbled into his chest. “Sorry,” she whispered, bracing herself for a slap, a sharp reprimand. She was not scared of many things, sure, she was anxious, but not afraid. But James…he was one of the few she was truly terrified of.

Instead he pushed her drink into her hand. “Drink, Doll,” he soothed, leading her outside. 

She took another swig and dropped the cup, dark cola splashing on to the sidewalk, staining it. _I've been drugged,_ she realized with dawning horror. _How could I have been this stupid?_

Her head spun and suddenly her legs were swept out from under her and she was falling. Falling into emptiness. Into the dark stains on the sidewalk, into Reynolds’ waiting arms

_Everybody leaves you..._ his voice echoed in her head.

_Everybody except me._


	77. Chapter 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack, sorry it's been so long

It wasn't healthy.

Herc knew that much. He knew what he did to himself, pushing his exhausted body to work long hours and longer days, was not healthy or safe. He knew that when he crawled into bed next to Laf after his fingers stopped working and blood ran down his arms from hundreds of needle picks, what he was doing wasn't healthy. He knew that when he stood up after twelve hours of hunching in front of a sewing machine and had to hold on to the edge of the table to not pass out, what was doing wasn't healthy.

He knew that when he threw up stomach acid after eating nothing for over twenty four hours because of how busy he was, what he was doing wasn't healthy.  
He also knew that his own savings were running dangerously low. He hadn't been making as much money as he'd been saying he had, the entire company hadn't, so little money in fact, that his boss- a man by the name of Mr. Rosario- had started talking about closing the store. He and all the others had begun working harder and harder, but none had taken it to this extreme. He was exhausted, running only on what Lafayette and John shoved down his throat

 _Oh, John_ …Herc was so worried for him. It seemed that every time they saw each other, his smile was a little more forced and he was a little more thin. He didn't realize that when John looked at him, that was exactly what he saw.

John was still running, miles out in the dead of night, only in a light shirt and pants. Laf would wait up until midnight, waiting to see if he'd text them that he was back safely, waiting to see if Herc would put down his needle and join them in bed. Most of the time they slept alone, with only the comfort of knowing John was back with the Schuylers.

It was 6:00 in the morning. Herc looked up from his coffee, realizing he had only fifteen minutes to get to work. “Fuck!” he swore softly, leaving the hardly touched coffee, and grabbed his bag. He hesitated at the door, looking at the slightly open door behind which Laf lay sleeping. “I love you,” he whispered, turning and rushing out.

They had a car now. They had both saved up to spend on a used and slightly crappy bug, which was absolutely horrible but affordable. Herc swore as he dropped his keys, hands shaking from exhaustion. He jumped in the car, pulling his bag up beside him, briefly checking to make sure he had all his fabric, and drove off.

The dress he was supposed to be working on was a velvet red prom dress. The sketch he had been given was a mermaid fashion, clinging at the hips and thighs and releasing around the calves into a huge skirt and train. There was gold embroidery all along the bodice, sliders and vines creeping up, spelling tiny messages of “love” and “beauty” in the stitching. He'd never been good at embroidery.

Herc briefly had thought that Laf would look beautiful in that dress but he couldn't allow himself to dwell on that. He had so much work to do.

 _Maybe tonight I'll be able to sit down with them,_ he thought, turning into the parking lot at 6:12. _Maybe we’ll be together._

He opened the door and stumbled, vertigo slamming into him like a wall. He took a deep breath and pulled out his bag. He was fine. He had to be. They needed this money. Especially now, with Lafayette's parents deciding to close their account and have all the money transferred to their own.

That had come as a shock, a horrible shock. Laf had sat there for a moment after reading the email from the bank. They had been on the verge of tears, apologizing for nothing. With stress and schoolwork and their mental state, Herc knew that they couldn't handle the added pressure of a job and refused to let them search for one. He pushed open the door and headed back to his office, feeling light headed, but he was fine. He had to be.

For Laf, for himself.

He had to be.

///

It wasn't healthy.

John knew it. He knew that what he was doing wasn't sustainable. He knew that his obsessive running, his lack of appetite, wasn't at all healthy or safe. He knew Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy knew it. He knew Laf knew, and he knew Herc did too.

He could see the worry in Peggy’s young face when he pushed away a hardly touched sandwich or when he couldn't make himself eat the food he had prepared.

Eventually, she pulled him outside early as he got ready to run. It was about 6:00am.

“Not today,” she said softly, sitting beside him as he slipped on socks. He hadn't even heard her.

“Hi,” he said softly, ignoring what she had said. “What is it?”

Peggy grabbed his shoes and sat on them, glaring over at him. “I'm really, really fucking worried, John.” Her knowing, slightly abrasive yet caring tone drove a nail through his heart. Martha spoke like that.

“I don't know why,” he said offhandedly. “Give me my shoes please.”

She shook her head. “Not until you listen to me.” He sat back and she nodded, looking mildly satisfied. “We’re all- Laf and Herc included- really, really worried about you,” she said sincerely. “You’re hardly here anymore, and I understand. M-“ she cleared her throat. “Maria did the same thing when she first came to live with us.”

“She did?” John whispered, sitting back.

Peggy nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah…John, I understand why you're doing what you're doing. No, don't interrupt me,” she said as he opened his mouth. “I know part of it is just loss of appetite, and that's to be expected. And these runs,” she gestured to him, “they release a chemical in your brain that takes away a little of the pain, and you get addicted. I know there's that…thing in your chest that you want to go away because it hurts but only sometimes. Sometimes it's just there. Just empty. But-“ sudden tears filled her eyes. “Can you see what you're doing to yourself?” she asked. “Look at you!” She grabbed his arm, and shook it angrily. "God, you look sick! Exhausted!" She shook her head, face screwed up, trying not to cry.

“Peggy, don't,” he begged, pulling her into a hug. “No, don't cry. I'm okay."

She shook her head, fisting the back of his shirt. “No, you aren't. You just can't see it. This is like watching Maria all over again…”

John forced his tears away, allowing his big brother mode to take over. “Margarita Schuyler,” he said softly, pulling away and squeezing her hand. “I am completely fine, alright? I know how much my body can take, and I'm fine.” He laughed a little. “I know I've lost some weight, but it's not like I'm trying to. I won't do morning runs if it makes you feel better, okay? And I'll work on eating more. I'm just...I've been in a really bad headspace lately."

She smiled and wiped her eyes and, _God_ , she looked so much like Martha. “Promise me.”

His heart twisted as the lie slid off his tongue. “I promise.” Doing what he did was something that made him feel human, alive, for the first time in weeks. He couldn't just give that up.

Eliza made breakfast that day. She was doing better, not great, but better. There were still bags under her eyes, there were still nights she would stay up crying and crying, pouring over those letters, and John would beside her until dawn. Angelica would stand at the door after she fell asleep and watch John look through the letters, petting her hair when she started to cry out in her sleep.

She would watch, tears running silver down her cheeks, disappearing into her thick black hair, helpless. She knew that there was nothing she could do.

“John?” she asked, setting a stack of pancakes down on the table. “You okay? You look like you aren't quite here.”

He blinked, clearing his mind. “Sorry,” he said with a little laugh. “I'm preoccupied with thinking and stuff.” He took a bite of the pancake.

“And stuff,” Angelica remarked, helping herself to several pancakes. She bit into them, smiling. “Liza, what the fuck? These are heavenly.”

“She's an Angel,” Peggy joked. “Of course they are.”

Eliza blushed at the praise, smiling down at her plate. It was empty, John noticed. “You know it!”

_And suddenly Alex was there, not Hamilton, but Alex. Alex who was loyal and kind, setting down some pancakes on the bedside table and kissing him. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” he remarked. “I made breakfast.”  
_

_“I'm starving,” John murmured, pulling him down on top of him. “Thanks, Prince Charming.” He sat up and grabbed a plain pancake, too lazy to get syrup. “Jesus fuck, Alex,” he moaned. “These are amazing! You're an angel.”  
_

_Alex laughed, eyes bright and loving. “You know it.”_  
  
John's stomach twisted into a rock hard knot. Suddenly, the little he had eaten seemed to turn to stone, weighing him down, hurting. “I need to use the bathroom,” he excused himself, running as soon as he was out of sight. 

Peggy looked after him, a look of dismay on her face. Eliza set down her fork. “Was it the pancakes?” she asked sadly.

Angelica wrapped an arm around her. “No,” she assured. “The pancakes are amazing. He's just…he's not working through it as well as you are.” Eliza leaned her cheek against Angelica's shoulder as they heard retching coming from the bathroom. Peggy put her head in her hands. Eliza closed her eyes, sighing. Angelica stared empty eyed at the hallway.

It wasn't fair.

When John came back, it was very quiet and solemn. No one spoke and neither him nor Eliza could seem to stomach anything else. Angelica gestured at Peggy to leave the two alone. “I'm sorry,” Eliza whispered, not looking at him.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmured. “Breakfast was amazing…it's just…”

She cleared her throat, shifting in her seat. “No. No, I get it. Totally.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. There was nothing to say, no explanations were necessary, no further words. Finally, Eliza cleared her throat and looked over at him. “We need to try and move on,” she said.  
“Have any idea how to?” John asked. “I've been trying for over two weeks now.”

She thought for a second before slamming her hand down, face alive again. “We can burn the Pamphlet, the letters!” Upon seeing his blank expression, she sighed. “Symbolism, John. Burn the memories of them, let that go.”

A slow smile spread across John's face and his cheeks suddenly didn't look as hollow. “That's brilliant! Eliza, you're amazing!” He'd told Hamilton he'd burn those letters and now he'd get to carry through with it.

Her face lit up and she laughed, grabbing his hands. “The beach, tomorrow night?”

“Absolutely."

Angelica stood outside of the door, peaking inside. Eliza was laughing, smiling like she hadn't smiled in weeks. Her heart twisted with a sense of protectiveness, love, and jealously.

Maybe it would be alright


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Abuse, harassment

Maria blinked open her eyes, squinting into the sunlight that poured through the white curtains. _Wait- where am I?_ she thought, panic rising in her chest. _Where am I?_

This wasn't anywhere she remembered, anywhere she'd been for the last days. She'd been sleeping at a bus stop, not inside a house.

It all came crashing down on her, like breaking waves in the ocean. Reynolds. He'd drugged her? Was that right? She furrowed her brow, trying to remember. Yes, he had. A sick feeling rose in her throat, choking her. Slowly, she reached her hand down to her chest, feeling a sense of relief fill her when she realized she was still clothed.

So nothing had happened.

She sat up, running a hand through her hair. The room was rather nice, her bag of clothing and school supplied were sitting untouched by the dresser, and there was a desk with several boxes of paints and pencils sitting on it. The door was slightly opened, allowing a stream of amber light to slip through. There was a note that read: _you know the drill,_ but Reynolds was nowhere to be seen.

She stood up, shivering as her feet touched the cold wood floor. Her heart raced, expecting Reynolds to be standing in a shadow, to see him sitting by the closet, standing outside of the door. _I'm back,_ she thought. _I'm back…_ It felt like a dream, a horrible, twisted dream, and she just wanted to wake up. She wanted Eliza…

Slowly, silently, she went to the closet and peeked into it. This was always what he'd have her do before. She wasn't to be seen until she looked perfect, until she had on an outfit with a dangerously low cut and her face was perfectly made up. Maria settled on a black top with a cut that went nearly to her ribs and tight jeans. Maybe it would be enough.

She hoped, because if it wasn’t, he'd take her by the arm and throw her back into the room, screaming everything he could think of to hurt her, and if he was truly mad enough, he’d rip the clothing off and lock her in her room for the rest of the day- or however long he pleased.

It was like a machine, how she moved. Sliding on knee high black boots that would never be worn outside, pushing her hair to one side so the curls fell partially over her eye. With her short hair, it was harder to do. She took a seat in front of the mirror that held all her makeup products and thought painfully to Dolley, who'd made her promise Reynolds would be in jail. “I'm sorry, Dolley,” she whispered, wondering what her friend had thought when she had read the Pamphlet.

It was 9:34am when she was done. It was like looking a different person, a person with heavy and sharp contour, dark eyes, sharp brows, and dark red lips. It was looking at a Miss Maria Reynolds instead of Maria Lewis and the difference was astounding. What would Eliza say?

 _Well, Eliza isn't here,_ she thought, pushing away thoughts of the girl she loved.

Reynolds was sitting with his feet propped up on the table, reading a newspaper, when she walked down. He glanced up over the top of his paper and watched her sit across from him. “Well, well, well, look who's finally awake?”

She forced a smile. “Hello, James.” Her stomach growled and she hit it under the table, not wanting to give away how hungry she was. Too late. His eyes narrowed.

“You want breakfast?” he asked, voice calm and sickly.

She blanched, looking down. It was a trick question. “If you would allow it,” she murmured. Perfect answer. She'd played this game for years, mastered every skill.

He tutted, reaching across the table and lifting her chin with one finger. “You can have an apple.”

 _An apple?_ She hadn’t eaten a full meal in days, what with sleeping at a bus stop and having very little money. She needed more than that! Maria smiled and stood. “Thank you,” she said graciously, feeling her heart sink. She carefully took an apple from the bowl of fruit by the stove.

Reynolds slapped her ass and she felt vomit rise in her throat, but she didn't react. "You're being such a good girl today, Maria,” he commented. “Maybe I’ll reward you later.”

 _Only because it useless to fight you,_ she thought bitterly, but said, “I'll look forwards to it. Thank you.” He looked at her and she wanted to cross her arms over to far too exposed chest.

She hated this, she hated him, she wanted to get out, and she couldn't. He fed her, he gave her a place to sleep, a place to live, and all she had to do was be sexy and complicit.

It wasn't that bad.

///

It had been a month now.  
Theodosia sat in bed, rubbing her stomach gently, feeling the barely there bump. It was 9:50am and a Saturday so neither of them had classes. Aaron was asleep next to her, stretched out on his stomach, face turned away from her. She watched him breathing for a moment, relishing in the knowledge that this incredible man was the father of her unborn child.

She was so lucky. Aaron was supportive, so kind, and always told her he'd stay with her until the end, that he couldn't wait to see the child they would bring into the world. She knew he'd be a fantastic dad, but at the same time…he was so distant from everyone, so secluded and quiet.

Well, he wouldn't be like that with their child, he'd love them, teach them all he knew.

“Aaron,” she murmured, kissing his neck. “Sweetie, we have to get up at some point.”

He muttered something and buried his face deeper in the pillow.

Theo smiled, kneading the back of his neck with her hands. “It's almost 10am. We have to get up,” she murmured softly. “I have an appointment at noon.”

Aaron sat up so fast that she flinched back. “Today?” he exclaimed. Noticing her distance from him he lowered his head. “Sorry,” he murmured, kissing her. “Downtown, right?”

She nodded. “Yep.”

“Okay.” He swung his legs out of bed, stretching. “Do we have any food left? We haven't gone shopping in a few weeks.”

Theo yawned, standing. “We don't have enough money to.” He opened his mouth to protest but she shushed him. “Aaron, you are not getting out the rest of your trust fund. You save that for when we need it, and for college.” She rested her hands on her belly. “For when our child is born.”

His face immediately softened. “Okay.” He started walking towards the door. She followed, yawning once more.

“Are you worried?” she asked, watching him open the fridge.

Aaron shrugged, taking out a carton of eggs. “A little. Scrambled?” he asked, gesturing to the eggs.

“Always.” Theo perched on the counter, feeling a slight rush of nausea. “Ugh, I'm starting to get morning sickness,” she moaned. She'd been getting it before, but it had waned for a while. Now it seemed to be coming back.

Aaron glanced at her with a smile. “That's too bad. Orange juice in the fridge. There's not a lot left. You can have it.”

She slid off and opened the fridge. “What names do you like?” she asked, kissing his cheek before going to sit down.

“For the baby?”

“No, I'm going to legally change my name,” she said sarcastically. “Yes, for the baby!”

Aaron laughed, cracking an egg. “I don't know. For a boy…uh…I don't know.”

Theo laughed, tossing a popcorn kernel she had found on the counter at him. “I hate you! Mister no opinions.”

“I have plenty of opinions, thank you very much!”

“No you don't.”

“Yes I do!” he insisted.

Theo snorted. “Bitch please. Like what?”

“It's my personal opinion that I have opinions,” he said, and the corner of his mouth quirked.

Theo slapped his arm playfully. “Fuck you!”

“It's also my opinion,” he said, moving the egg around the pan with a smile, “that you are the single most interesting, intelligent, and beautiful person who has ever lived and you will be the best mom.”

The statement made her illogically emotional. “Don't mess with me like this when my hormones are going crazy,” she said, smiling. “It's also my opinion that you'll be the best dad.”

Aaron laughed. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

 


	79. Chapter 79

"Let me in!” Lafayette pushed through the crowd of people, heart breaking their ribs as it pounded with the force of one thousand hammers, anxiety like fire in their veins. They had gotten the call perhaps ten minutes ago and broke the speed limit in Thomas’ car, trying, praying they'd get here on time. “Let me in or so God help me!”

They pushed through the mob of people, elbowing and shoving without remorse. Their heart stopped, frozen mid beat. All the noise was suddenly sucked into a vacuum and the only thing they could see was blood, bright blood on the floor. Their legs gave out and they sank into the floor, into a churning sea of terror and disbelief. Thomas grabbed their arm, pulling them out.

“Where is he?” he snapped at the surrounding people. “Someone fucking answer me!”

A small woman with a squeaky voice said, “the paramedics took him out back to the ambulance.”

Laf ran. Their heart raced and pounded, trying to free itself from the prison of their ribs and the air on their face was sinister and laughing and this couldn't be happening. They pushed open an emergency exit, not caring that it was off limits. They could hear Thomas’ pounding feet behind them, and this couldn't be happening. They halted so suddenly that they nearly fell over. The entire world flashed black for a split second, the only thing their could see was the stretcher, the blood. “Oh my god,” they whispered. A paramedic looked over, eyes narrowing.

“You aren't allowed to be here.”

Laf couldn't speak, couldn't form words. They looked over at Thomas, silently begging him to speak. “They're dating,” he called, voice trembling. “They've been best friends for…I don't even know how long. Please…”

The man's eyes softened. “You can drive behind us,” he allowed.

The stretcher shifted and Laf let out a heart breaking cry. “Let me see him!” they cried, words caught in a sob. “Let me see him!”

“We can't,” a tall woman said, coming to block their view. “It's against policy.”

Laf tried to run forwards, but Thomas caught their hand, pulling them back against his chest. “Let me go!” they sobbed, trying to push themselves out of his arms, fruitlessly struggling. “Thomas!”

Thomas closed his eyes, resting his chin on top of their head as they sank to the ground, struggling to breathe through every sob. “Breathe,” he whispered, trying not to cry. “Breathe. We have to go back to the car now. Please.” They nodded, taking in rasping breaths, and stood.

It was 10:32am when they got to the car. Laf sunk into the passengers seat, curling in on themselves and staring out of the window, watching the ambulance back out into the road. They didn't speak. Thomas thought that they probably couldn't.

_It was about 10:00 that morning. Thomas was proof reading Laf’s essay for Washington, marking a few punctuation errors. “Why do you need help anyways?” he asked with a grin. “You're his favorite anyways.”  
_

_“No, I'm not,” Laf snorted._ _“Please.”  
_

_He shook his head, biting into an apple. “Fuck you. You should hear how he talks about you.”  
_

_Laf paused, looking up from their textbook. “How does he?” they asked softly.  
_

_Thomas hesitated, unsure of how to answer them. “Like you're the child he never had,” he said honestly, watching a soft expression creep onto their face. “You like that, don't you?”  
_

_“It's…it’s foreign, having someone care like that,” they admitted, looking back at their book. Their phone started to buzz and they picked up. “Hello?”  
_

_“Are you…Laf…Lafayette?”  
They didn't recognize the number. _

_“Who is this?” they asked suspiciously, putting the phone on speaker.  
_

_“This is Hercules Mulligan’s manager.”  
_

_“Why are you calling?” Laf asked. Something was wrong.  
_

_The man- Mr. Rosario, Laf remember- hesitated. “Something's happened. Mister Mulligan collapsed at his station. We've called an ambulance and they're on their way. I'd suggest you get here as fast as you can.” He hung up.  
_

_Laf’s eyes were shocked, disbelieving. “Thomas-“ they whispered._

_Thomas grabbed their hand._  
“My car,” he said, pulling them up.   


_It was 10:07 when they climbed into the car Thomas had recently had repaired. Laf was shaking so badly that Thomas paused in concern before pulling into the road. “Breathe,” he murmured. “Laf, you need-“  
_

_“Don't tell me what I need to do!” they snapped, voice cracking._ _Thomas went silent and they sighed. “I'm sorry, I'm just…I'm so fucking scared right now.”  
_

_“I understand,” Thomas soothed, pressing the gas down even more.  
_

_Laf held on to the seat as they went over a bump. “No, you don't. No. I'm sorry, but you don't. Thomas, it's happening all over again. First you, now him. I can't anymore!” They started to cry, turning away in shame.  
_

_Thomas looked over, wrapping his arm around them. “You can. You're so, so strong. Remember what you promised me?”  
_

_Laf pushed his arm away. “Eyes on the road.”  
_

_“Do you remember?”  
_

_They nodded. “Yeah.”  
_

_“Keep that promise.” They didn't respond. Thomas bit his lip, praying._

_It was 10:11._

It was 10:56.

Thomas pulled into the parking lot as the stretcher was wheeled inside. He looked over at Laf, who's face was pale. They looked frozen to heir seat, catching sight of the unmoving dark shape lying on the stretcher. “Fuck,” they breathed, pushing to the door open and bolting towards the doors.

“Laf!” Thomas opened the door, running after them. He caught their arm, pulling them to a halt before they reached the door. It was then that he realized how grey their skin looked and how much they were shaking. “Hey,” he breathed, pushing them down on the curb. “Breathe.”

They stared at him with eyes that weren’t quite seeing him. “You didn't see him,” they whispered, voice shaking. “Oh my god, Thomas. He was so pale, so…” A sob shook their body.

Thomas closed his eyes, pulling them into a hug. “No,” he murmured. “Herc's going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.” He prayed that it would be, hoped with all his heart. Neither Laf nor Herc deserved this.

“And if it isn't?” they asked, breathing against his neck. “If he's hurt really badly?” _If he dies?_

Thomas shook his head, pulling back. “Don't think like that,” he whispered. “Don't you dare think like that.” He stood up, offering a hand. Laf took it and he pulled them up. “Lets go inside. You need to call John and I need to call James. And…” he hesitated, and Laf's eyes narrowed.

“Absolutely not,” they hissed, shaking their head.

“You don't even know what I was about to say!” Thomas protested.

They kept shaking their head. “No. No. I won't do it. I know exactly what you were gonna say.”

Thomas sighed. “Laf, you might not like it, but he deserves to know!”

“Well if you're so concerned about him knowing, maybe you should call him!” They lowered their voice was a man looked over at the two in concern. “You know what happened the last time we spoke. I am not doing this again. You want Hamilton to know, then call him yourself.” They pulled their phone out and stormed into the waiting room.

Thomas lowered himself onto the curb. He knew that they weren't angry at him, just scared. They'd get over it in no time at all. He sighed, pressing James’ contact and holding the phone up to his ear. The call went to voicemail.

“Hey,” Thomas whispered after the beep. “Darling, everything's fine. I'm at the hospital with Laf. Mulligan passed out at work and I was at their house when it happened. I drove Laf to the hospital and I'll probably be here for a while. Don't worry about me, okay? I know that won't stop you, but try not to. I love you, call me back when you get this.” He hung up, sighing.

It was 11:03am. He hesitated, looking through his contacts.

11:04. Hamilton- as much as he hated the guy- needed to know.

11:05. Gathering himself, Thomas called him.

One ring. Two rings. Thomas waited. By the fifth ring, he'd assumed Hamilton wouldn't answer. Then, “ _what the fuck do you want, Jefferson?_ ” He had picked up the phone.

Thomas almost laughed in relief. “Hamilton,” he greeted coldly. “Hercules is in the hospital. He passed out at work. I'm here with Lafayette, so if you're going to come, don't come now. I'll text you when we're gone.”

Hamilton was silent for a moment. “ _Why would I want to see him?”_

“Herc?” Thomas asked. “Because you may be a shitty, horrible person, but you still care about your friends. You loved him, he was like your brother, your best friend, and people don't give up on people they care about that easily.”

“ _Touching_ ,” Hamilton sneered. “ _Why are you calling me?”_

“Be civil, you brat. Why am I the one calling, or why were you called?”

“ _Why did you call me?_ ”

Thomas laughed coldly. “Oh, I wonder. The only other person here is Laf. Do you honestly think that they'd even want to look at you after what you did?”

Hamilton didn't answer. “ _Text me when you leave.”_

“Of course.” Thomas hung up, glancing back at the building to see Laf coming out, head bowed. “Hey,” he called to them.

They smiled sadly. “I'm sorry,” they said. “I should have snapped.”

“You had every right,” Thomas murmured, standing. “I called him, he's coming after we leave. Is John on his way?”

Laf closed their eyes. “He's running here.”

Thomas squeezed their hand. He knew that his compulsive, excessive running would never result in anything good, and he was extremely worried. “Oh.”

They nodded, pulling him towards the door. “Lets go in. The nurses might call us and we won't be there.”

Thomas followed them, stiffening as the smell of the hospital surrounded him. He shook off the uneasiness and followed Laf to a seat. “You alright?” he asked them.

“Yeah.” A beat. “No.”

“That's okay,” he said softly. “Everything will be alright.”

Laf shook his head. “What if it isn't?”

“I told you that I wasn't doing this.” His phone started to vibrate. “It's James,” he said. “Excuse me for a second.” Thomas stood and walked outside, leaving Laf staring at his back.

“ _Thomas_?” James asked as Thomas put the phone to his ear.

“Hi,” Thomas breathed, thanking God he wasn't trapped in the waiting room any longer. “Hey, Darling.”

“ _You okay_?” He sounded shaken, worried.

“I'm okay, I guess.”

“ _How's Laf? I'm getting a cab as soon as I can_.”

Thomas smiled. “You don't need to.”

“ _I want to_ ,” he insisted. “ _You didn't answer me. How's Laf_?”

Thomas hesitated. “They could be better. They're handling it better than I thought they would, but…” He sighed. “It's hard on them.”

James blew out a breath of air. “ _I know. Maybe…never mind.”_

“What?” Thomas asked curiously.

“ _It's stupid. Never mind,”_ he insisted.

"Tell me."

James hesitated. _“I could talk to them maybe. I mean, I know what it's like, what they're going through. I know how much it hurts and how scared they must be.”_

Thomas smiled. “That's a fantastic idea. I'd better go now. Hurry up and get here quickly so I can kiss you for saying that.”

He laughed, a door slamming in the background. “ _Oh, fuck you! I'm leaving now, and I love you._ ”

“Love you too, Darling.”

“ _Is that your new name for me?_ ”

Thomas shrugged, feeling sudden affection consume him. “If you don't have anything against it.”

“ _Nothing at all_.” A car door opened in the background. “ _Gotta go, Angel.”_ He hung up.

Thomas put his phone away, looking up at the blue sky. It was cheery, bright, nice out. Such inappropriate weather for what had happened. He wanted to believe it would be alright. He wanted to believe that nothing more would happen, but he knew that this wasn't going to be the end.

Was there even an end, or an infinite circle of pain and suffering?

 


	80. Chapter 80

John’s feet pounded on the ground, every step requiring more and more effort. His head was spinning, vision blurring in and out. He could walk the rest of the way, could take a few extra minutes in exchange for his health.

 _No_ , that voice inside hissed.  
He didn't run yesterday morning. He had to make up for it. Running was a routine, a constant thing, the only constant in his life. Hamilton was gone, he'd moved, Herc was in the Hospital, everyone knew everything, and everything was shifting, changing like the clouds in the sky. Something had to be reliable, steady.

He pushed his body further, seeing the hospital up ahead, and briefly wondered what would happen if he passed out in the parking lot. IV’s, Laf freaking out, Thomas being worried. He didn't know. “Come on,” he hissed, pushing his legs the last stretch until he slowed to a walk upon entering the parking lot.

Taking deep breaths, he wiped the sweat off his face and pulled out his phone to text Eliza that he was there. She worried too much. He sighed, finished sending the text, and walked inside. “Here we go,” he murmured to himself. It was 11:43.

“John!” Laf stood up as soon as he entered. They looked distressed, face pale. They grabbed his arm and pulled him to a seat next to Thomas.

John smiled, allowing himself to be seated. “Any news?”

Thomas shook his head. “They said they'd call us up when they're done running their tests.”  
He sighed. “How long will that be?”

Laf shrugged, sitting down. “We don't know.”

“Hey,” Thomas said softly, “I might go run to get us some food. Anyone want any?”

“I'll take a muffin,” Laf said. “John?” They're eyes were pleading, asking him to get something.

John shook his head. He couldn't stomach the thought of food right now. “I'm good.”

Thomas gave him a knowing look. “John. You just ran over five miles. Just get some fucking food.”

“I'm not hungry,” he insisted.

Thomas grabbed his arm. “Laf,” he said sweetly, “excuse us for a minute.”

Laf shrugged. “No problem.”  
Thomas’ grip tightened and he dragged John outside. John twisted, trying to free his arm. “Thomas, what the fuck?”

Thomas let go, glaring at him. “No, John, what the fuck? You need to fucking eat, okay? I don't care if you aren't hungry or if you don't think you deserve to eat, or whatever! You need to eat or else you are going to end up in the hospital, just like Herc, and you and I both know that Lafayette cannot handle seeing you in there as well!”

John blinked, looking taken aback. “It's not fucking about not being hungry, and it isn't as simple as just eating, okay? It's like my running! I can control that, and it can be constant, ritualistic! Nothing in my life has ever been constant, it's never had a routine! It's always been filled with, trying to do something, or a different thing every day, and this- this fucking Pamphlet is the straw that broke the camels back! I can add routine into my life by controlling things, and that can be food, or exercise, or whatever! It's not even that! I'm just not hungry, okay? I'm never hungry anymore!”

“I understand that!” Thomas snapped. “That doesn't give you an excuse to destroy yourself!”

“I know how much my body can take!” John defended, glaring at Thomas. But standing here now, thinking about it, he did feel more than a little dizzy, and he hadn't eaten anything in this long? He'd had breakfast yesterday, but that was the last time he remembered. He closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“John?” Suddenly Thomas’ arm was around his middle, supporting him. His face was pressed against his neck. “Fucking hell, man. What did I tell you?”

John blinked several times, swaying. “What just happened?” he asked, pulling away and swaying again.

Thomas grabbed his wrist. “You're a fucking idiot, that's what,” he snapped. “I'm going out to buy you food. You just blacked out for a second, fell into me.”

John glared at him. “You don't need to do this, try and take care of me. What ever we may have had in the past- our friendship- that's all well and gone. I can take care of myself.”

Thomas snorted. “Right. If I hadn't been there to grab you, your face would have smashed right into the concrete. And what then? You'd be admitted, put through therapy possibly, and Laf would crack.”

“They're stronger than that. I wouldn't break them.”

“No,” Thomas agreed. “But you'd be the final straw.”

A taxi pulled into the parking lot, engine purring like a cat. Thomas’ head whipped around and he started to walk towards the car as the door opened. James, looking anxious and delighted to see Thomas, quickly handed the driver some bills and jogged towards him.

“Thomas!” he called.

A smile, radiant and pure, split Thomas’ face and he grabbed the collar of James’ shirt and kissed him hard. James let out a little “umph”, before sinking into the kiss, gripping his back. Thomas kissed him with apology, apology for making him worry, for undoubtably bringing back the memories of the attack. James kissed with forgiveness, because as long as they were together and safe, it didn't matter.

John looked away, feeling a bittersweet feeling in his heart. He wanted that, he wanted to have Alex- not Hamilton, but just Alex- back, have someone to reassure him. He wanted to not be alone, and he knew he wasn't alone. He knew that he had Laf and Thomas and James and the Schuyler's, not Herc right now, but so many others. But they weren't Alex. They couldn't replace him. He caught Lafayette standing at the door, eyes shadowed and sad, watching the pair as they pulled apart.

James leaned his forehead against Thomas’. “Are you okay?” he asked. “I know that hospitals might bring back some…unpleasant memories.”

Thomas smiled, taking his hand and stepping back, looking around to see if anyone had seen them. The lot was empty, but he saw Laf standing at the door. “I'm okay,” he murmured. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” James said, smiling.

“Do you have any food?”

He checked his pockets. “A granola bar, why?”

Thomas looked behind him, a shadow crossing his face. “John blacked out for a second earlier. I don't know the last time he ate.”  
James nodded, handing him the bar. “Oh.” His voice was off. Thomas chose to ignore it.

“Thanks, Darling.” He lead him over to John and Laf, who were now standing inside, talking quietly. “John,” he said, shoving the bar into his hands. “Eat this or I'm going to call a fucking nurse.”

John glared at him but ripped open the wrapper. “Fuck you.”

Laf looked at the two questioningly. “Did something happen that I am not aware of?”

“Nothing,” John said, taking a reluctant bite. It tasted like sand.

The door behind them opened and a red headed woman poked her head out. “Mister Jefferson? Lafayette? They just called you.”

Laf’s face drained of color. They looked over at Thomas in anxiety. “We’re going to see him?” they whispered.

John took their arm, throwing the half finished bar into a trash can by the entrance, and lead them in. Thomas squeezed James’ hand tightly, eyes fixed on Laf as they went in. “They're going to be perfectly fine,” James murmured.

“What if they aren't?” Thomas asked.

“They will be."

  
///

Lafayette was not alright.

Their heart was racing as the doctor stood in front of them. It was 12:03 in the afternoon, and they were exhausted. John was standing a little ways away, not quite confused on the doctor, simply drifting into space. James and Thomas were standing behind them, holding hands.

The doctor cleared his throat. “As you heard, Mister Mulligan collapsed at his desk and was brought here. We’ve run several tests and have come to the conclusion that nothing is seriously wrong, however, he is severely dehydrated and has not been consuming enough nutrients to fuel his body- this leading to us all standing here right now.” His eyes flitted over John, taking in his shadowed face and thin arms. “We’ve put an IV in and we'd like to keep him here for the night to monitor his progress. If nothing changes, he will be kept here longer. Marquis, you and him are rather close, I gather?”

Laf nodded. “Yes, we are. And please do not use that title- call me Lafayette.”

The doctor nodded. “I'd like to ask you if he's been under a lot of pressure as of late?”

They sighed. “He works at the tailoring business. It's prom season. I can presume you can put the pieces together?”

The doctor nodded again. “Very well. You are free to visit him. I believe he is awake.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Laf said, turning. They beckoned to John, who slowly made his way over to them. He looked more pale than usual, freckles standing out against his skin. Laf took his arm.

It was 12:10 when the doctor left them outside Herc’s room.

Everyone stepped back to let Laf enter first. They covered their mouth with their hands, letting out a sound between a sob and laugh. Herc, ashy faced but awake, was sitting up, reading a Harry Potter book. His arm was bandaged from where he had presumably hit it on the desk when he fell. He turned, eyes lighting up. “Laf!”

They ran towards him, collapsing beside the bed, and grabbing the hand on his not IV’d arm. “Oh mon dieu!” they whispered, tears in their eyes. “Mon amour, are you alright?”

Herc laughed, kissing the top of their head. “I'm okay,” he assured. “I'm okay, Angel. Breathe.”

“I got the call and I was so fucking scared!” they said, leaning their head against his shoulder. “If you ever scare me like that again I will strangle you.”

“Kinky,” Herc laughed, waggling his eyebrows. Laf slapped him gently. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I should have listened to you and taken better care of myself, I was just so stressed…I'm so sorry.”

Laf shook their head. “No, no, don't apologize. Just try and take better care of yourself from now on.” They leaned up and kissed him gently.

James smiled from the doorway, squeezing Thomas’ hand. “I told you, Angel.”

Thomas turned away from the couple, eyes slightly wet. His said nothing, just leaned his head on James’ shoulder, smiling. Maybe it would be alright.

Could he dare to hope?


	81. Chapter 81

The night was beginning to fall, casting long, dark shadows across the hospital grounds. It was 8:45.

They had been there for hours. James left for work a while ago and Thomas had accompanied him, but John and Laf stayed beside Herc for over eight hours, talking, not talking. What difference did it make?

John felt his phone vibrate and checked it. “I have to go,” he said apologetically. “Eliza and I have plans.”

“What kind of plans?” Herc asked, shifting from where he was lying next to Laf, who also looked up.

He smiled, rolling his eyes. “You know I'm gay,” he said. “We’re burning some stuff on the beach, the letters, the Pamphlet.”

Laf nodded, understanding evident on their face. “Oh. Want me to call a taxi or something?” John shook his head, opening his mouth, but Laf cut him off. “The only thing I've seen you eat all day is a half a granola bar. You are not running.”

John nodded sheepishly. “That would be great, Laf.”

They smiled at him triumphantly, taking out their phone. Suddenly, they froze, staring st their screen. Herc sat up, wincing. “Angel?” he asked. “Oh…”

“What is it?” John asked, standing. “Tell me.”

Laf tore their gaze away, looking shocked and hollow. “Sit down,” they commanded softly. “We have to leave right now.”

“What? Why?”

They held out their phone. “This is why.”

Hamilton: _I'm coming to the hospital in 10 minutes_

Hamilton: _I don't care if you aren't gone by then_

“Sent seven minutes ago?” John asked, voice shaking. “Oh god.”

Laf stood up, rubbing their arm. Herc gave them a worried glance. “Go,” he said softly. “I'll be fine, and I'll call you when he's gone.”

They shook their head. “I don't want to leave you.”

Herc laughed softly. “It probably won't even be an hour. Go. I love you. You too, John.”

“I love you,” Laf whispered, bending down to kiss him. “John, let’s go. We can call Angelica to pick us up.”

John nodded, biting his lip. He shot a last glance at Herc, smiling tightly. “Take care, man. I'll be back tomorrow.” Herc waved as he followed Laf out the door.

The hallway was quiet, empty with the exception of a few nurses. John paced in front of the elevator, waiting. Laf watched him, eyes dark and hand rubbing the marks on their arm. The elevator pinged and the doors slid open. Laf turned away, feeling their heart stutter with anxiety and sudden panic. John’s steady steps faltered.

Hamilton, clothed in a green shirt and loose jeans, exited, obviously trying very hard not to look at either of them. The bags under his eyes were lighter, as if he slept more, but his face was dark and hard. He spared John a glanced and almost did a double take.

Alex felt shock coursing through him. John was thinner, the muscle definition on his arms more prominent. His cheeks were hollower, pale. His eyes were sad, dark, tired. Guilt tried to drown him, wrapping slow, spidery fingers around his neck and pushing him into the sea of hurt. He shook it off.

 _I did what I had to do,_ he reminded himself. _I did what I had to do._

He turned his back on them, forcing any friendship, any love away.

John stepped into the elevator, sinking into a corner, heart pounding against his ribs. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “He was here, he was fucking here!”

Laf shushed him, sitting next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “It's alright,” they breathed. “He didn't even talk to us. Breathe.” But John could feel them trembling.

He swallowed, smiling shakily. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah…”

The doors slid open and John quickly stood, followed by Laf, and the two hurried out into the now dark parking lot. Laf pulled out their phone and sent a quick text to Angelica, sighing. “You alright?”

John laughed bitterly. “Never been.”

They nodded, sitting down next to him. “Same.”

“You never talk about what happened before you came to America,” John observed. “Is there a reason?”

They blew out a deep breath. “I was in a bad spot before I came out. I mean like really, really, really bad.”

“You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“No, no, it's fine.”

John bumped their shoulder with his. “Whatever you say.”

They bit their lip. “I had a breakdown. I was drinking, smoking, whatever took away the pain. My uncle had recently died, the first girl I'd ever loved dumped me because…I don't know how to say it, but because of what I am. She was disgusted. The children at my school knew that my father had power, but not enough. They'd beat me up in the halls, call me things I won't repeat, the usual.”

John wrapped an arm around them. He wasn't surprised it had been so bad, but he couldn't imagine someone going through it, and he could only think of Mark. “That's…that's horrible. And that girl…I just…I can't believe it. It's horrible.”

They smiled sadly. “It's just life. I got used to it. There are plently of people with worse.”

“But it's still horrible. With me, I was six-ish and I found my mom in the woods. Long story short, I yelled at her, she was never mentally stable, and she went out in the dead of winter and drank until her heart failed and she froze. I- Thomas and I- found her.”

Laf covered their mouth. “ _Mon Deiu._ That's…I'm so sorry. Our Thomas?”

He nodded. “Oh, it was a long time ago.” It still hurt. “And yeah, our Thomas.”

They sighed, “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. It wasn't like it was your fault.”

“It's still horrible.”

John nodded, shivering as an ocean breeze drifted through the empty parking lot. “Yeah,” he breathed.

Angelica arrived at 9:10, pulling up to the curb where they were sitting. “How is he?” she asked.

John slipped into shotgun, leaving Laf to climb in the back. “He's fine,” he said quietly, slamming the door.

Angelica sighed, driving out into the road. “John, you and Eliza on for tonight?”

“I think so.”

“Have you eaten today?”

John shrugged. “A little.”

Laf cleared their throat. “Part of a granola bar.”

Angelica’s eyes narrowed and she turned to glare at him. “I have chocolate in my bag in the back. Laf, can you grab it?”

“Of course,” they said, reaching around until they found the bag. They rummaged through it and pulled out a Carmel and chocolate bar. “John.” They handed it to him.

John sighed, opening the wrapper. “You're overreacting,” he insisted, breaking off a square and slowly chewing it. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.

“John…” Laf warned.

Angelica’s hands were white on the steering wheel, lips pressed in a tight line. “I am not over reacting.” She turned towards him, eyes sharp. “You're going to end up in the hospital if you carry on like this! You aren't eating enough, you're our too much, and your body can't take that for long! You need to suck it up and stop. You need to eat, sleep, and rest! If something happens to you, Eliza won't be able to take it!”

John laughed bitterly. “So it was never about you being worried about me, was it? It was always Eliza, always Peggy. Just like always.”

Laf let out a deep breath. “You fucked up, man.”

Her eyes seemed to burn red, like the heart of a fire. “You don't get to say that to me,” she snarled. “Everything I've ever done, from the moment Eliza was born, has been for her. I fought and bled and hurt for her, and I've done the same for Peggy, and I will never stand to see either of them hurt as bad as Hamilton did to them again. So it that means pulling some strings and getting you fucking admitted into a hospital, I will do it.”

John opened his mouth and closed it. He'd done the same for Martha. Mark had always been able to handle everything and anything, but Martha… He remembered blood on his fists, sitting on top of her first boyfriend, who had slapped her. God, what he wouldn't give to see her again, even for a moment. “Don't talk to me like I don't know what someone would do for their siblings,” he snapped, turning away, eyes suddenly quite wet.

Angelica looked away.

Nobody spoke for the rest of the drive.

///

Neither of them spoke.

Alex sat, fiddling with his hands, glancing up at the bandages around Herc’s arm. He wanted to ask what had happened, how he was feeling, and if he could do anything, but something told him that the questions would be quite unwelcome. Herc flipped through his book, pointedly ignoring Alex.  
“How are you feeling?” Alex asked softly.

“Fine.” Short, concise, blunt. He didn't even look up from his book.

Alex bit his lip. “Look, man, I know you're mad at me-“

Suddenly, the book was thrown to the floor. Herc turned as far as the IV would let him, and glared over at him. “You have no idea how mad I am,” he snapped. “I'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you hadn't done what you did to Lafayette.”

Alex winced. Of all the things he'd said and done, Laf was what he felt most guilty about. “You know I didn't mean it.”

“Oh, I know. But the fact you even said it is just inexcusable.” Herc sighed, cursing as the IV tugged. He pulled the needle out, hissing. Alex winced.

“I know,” he defended. “I was desperate and heartbroken. I know that's no excuse but…”

“There is no excuse.” Herc leaned forward, swinging him legs off the side of the bed. “There is no redemption. You can try and apologize to them, but not so soon after. Give it a few months. And there's not a chance in hell they'd even consider forgiveness until you talk with John.”

“I can't,” Alex said abruptly. “I just…I can't. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”

“Hamilton, let me just ask you something,” Herc started, “what in the hell did you think that fucking Pamphlet would fix?”

Alex gritted his teeth, hands clenched in fists. “I didn't need Jefferson to spread rumors, horrible rumors. I'd rather have the school- hell, I'd rather have the state- know about our affair, even the tiniest details, than have him, or Burr, or Madison say that I raped her.”

“You couldn't have at least told John about it first?”

“I'm aware!” Alex snapped. “I wish I had, but it's too fucking late now, so what can I do?” He put his head in his hands. “What do I do?” It came out a strangled whisper.

Herc sighed, softening. “You make it right. You listen to me, Alexander, and you make this shit right.” Alex looked up, smiling as his name left Herc’s lips. “You stay back for another month, and you don't talk to any of us- except me.”

“Why you?”

“Because out of every single person you've hurt, you've hurt me the least.” He scratched his head. “But, that said, I want you to know that I will never forgive you for what you've done. We can move past it, but nothing will ever be the same.”

Alex nodded, sighing. “I deserve it, I know.”

“You deserve worse,” he said pleasantly, squeezing drops of blood out of his arm from where he pulled the IV out. “I'd suggest talking to Thomas. He…I know you hate him, and he hates you, but you hurt him in ways you can't imagine when you did…you know, what you did.”

“I have to talk to Jefferson?” Alex groaned. “Fuck him.”

Herc shook his head, exasperated. “No, fuck you! He doesn't talk about this- like John doesn't.” Alex winced. “He keeps it inside, the bad stuff, doesn't even tell James. When you left our house that night and when everything happened with Laf, he was a mess. I know him and I know he can keep his head in every situation, except with James and the most serious ones, but he was so close to falling apart. He stayed up that entire night, except for maybe an hour, and while Laf was out, do you know what he did?”

Alex bowed his head. “No.”

“He sat there until morning, cleaning the cuts you left, holding their fucking hand! I was exhausted and I had to sleep. He woke up earlier than me the previous morning to do homework, and he forced himself to stay awake even longer!” Herc took a deep breath. “I don't like the guy, but I've known him far to long to not care about him at all. What you've done is inexcusable, because in doing it, you've hurt not only Laf and John and Eliza, but Maria, Angelica, Peggy, Thomas, James, and me. And as for Thomas, that's not even all the pain you've caused!”

“I don't want to hear anymore,” Alex whispered, bowing under the weight of his words.

“You're going to hear it,” Herc insisted. “Did you see John? He left as you were coming.”

Alex bit his lip, nodding. “Yes.”

“Did he look even remotely healthy to you? No! He's been nonstop since he moved in with the Schuyler's. He runs every day, probably nearly ten miles, and when he eats, it's hardly anything. One of these days, he's going to end up like me- in the hospital.”

Alex looked up. “How does this relate to Jefferson?”

Herc threw his hands up. “He used to have a crush on him, Alexander! They were together since they were children, they were the closest friends! He might not like him anymore, but there's a bond that cannot be broken there. Watching John destroy himself…it's fucking agony for all of us! Laf’s a mess, I've been too busy to help at all, so where does that responsibility fall? Onto Thomas. He's tried so hard to comfort Laf these past weeks, and he's going to fall apart. He's watching his best friend break, and John destroy himself and there's so little he can do about it!”

This wasn't happening. How could the Pamphlet have done this much damage? Alex looked up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I've got to make this right.”

A small smile appeared on Herc’s face. “Now you get it.”

 


	82. Chapter 82

The beach was deserted, devoid of people. Eliza sat on a piece of driftwood while John stood by the waters edge, staring off with a sort of longing into the waves. Peggy and Angelica were starting a fire in a ring of stone. 

It was 9:50pm. Angelica had dropped Laf off with James and Thomas- they hadn't wanted to be alone- and forced a sandwich down John's throat before driving everyone else to the beach. Eliza had brought all Maria and Hamilton’s letters and John had brought the box.

The sun had set over a crimson sea, leaving trails of gold and pink across the navy sky. The smoke from the fire sent a grey cloud up in spirals through the clear night, obscuring the stars. John let out a huff, looking up over the trees to the small house he knew lay just out of sight.

One million years ago, he had been sitting here, ready to take his life, to rid his family of all the grief he had caused, and Hamilton had rescued him. Tonight, he was standing, ready to start over, to rid himself of the pain Hamilton had brought upon him. Tonight, he was going to rescue himself.

“It's time,” Peggy called, voice carrying over the soft wind and the crackling fire. She sounded almost mournful.

Eliza crossed the wet sand, feet hardly making a sound. She took his hand, pulling him towards the fire. “We have to do this,” she whispered, voice packed with emotions too powerful to name.  
John opened the box, taking out the first letter. He scanned the words, feeling tears choke him. He remembered when love was kind, intriguing, when he'd read these at night and cry with happiness, knowing that this boy was his.

Now he cried with grief and heartbreak, remembering when this boy had been his, before a girl made of red lipstick and perfume had left her marks on him and he had tumbled down the abyss onto her.

_Cold in my Professions-_

He couldn't afford this nostalgia, this heartbreak. It was 9:54pm. Carefully, he knelt by the fire, feeling the heat curl around his hand, feeling the fire lap at the paper. Then he stood, paper still in hand. The glow from the flames colored his face a thousand colors, making him look ageless, unreal. The torch of memories he held blacked, drifting into pieces, dying embers floating into the sky to seek refuge from the greedy flames.

Eliza took a letter from the pile, feeling a sense of euphoria and grief entwined in her chest. She had to move on, press ahead with her life. Unconsciously, she looked up at Angelica, seeking approval. The barely there nod was enough. She set it at the base of the flames, watching the words, plain in Hamilton’s scrip, curling and writhe in burning agony as the flames consumed it. It was as if a chain snapped and she left lighter, freer. She couldn't help it; she laughed.

It sounded soulful and happy, beautiful and unreal. She straightened, throwing her arms and head back, letting the moonlight shine fully on her porcelain skin. She was one with everything around her, moving across stardust, building bridges from ash, ropes for others to climb.

John grabbed that rope, pulling himself up into happiness. He grabbed her hands when she offered them and they twirled, half laughing, half sobbing. They were doing it, breaking their chains, the bondage that held them to their grief was broken.

_I love you-_

The letter was burned, smoke curling in crescent shapes, spiraling towards the Heavens. John let out a bark of laughter, the indescribable joy and sorrow colliding in his heart. What would Hamilton do if he saw this now?

_Miss Maria-_

Eliza tore the letter into hundreds of scraps, throwing them into the air above the fire, letting them float down until the fire claimed them, sending the floating. burning butterflies into the night. Take this.

_My Dearest Laurens-_

I'm watching it burn. All of it, every last piece of paper.

_M-_

Watching it burn. I can't let you hurt me anymore.

Page one of the Lewis Pamphlet-

John crumbled it up, tossing it to Eliza from where she stood, drenched in flames, across the fire. She laughed, catching it and tossing it back. He held it, knowing that this was the source of his grief, not the letters, but this. These words destroy and destroy and they take and they take and he kept living. I'm going to live through this.

The paper burned quickly, looking like a blackened star amidst charred logs, simultaneously a beginning and an ending.

Destruction and rebirth.

Eliza took the second page, feeling her chest loosen with each letter that burned. You can't destroy me that easily. She tore it into two pieces, feeling tears running down his cheeks. “You can't hurt me anymore!” she shouted, dropping it onto one of the logs. The tears on her cheeks burned like fire, breaking and mending her heart.

Angelica watched from the back, fighting tears. Peggy was leaning against her, smiling and crying. To watch this sort of…rebirth, to see the pain leaving in clouds of smoke and hurt paper…it was beautiful, terribly beautiful. “She's going to be okay, Pegs,” Angelica murmured, kissing her little sisters’ hair. “They both are.”

“I know,” Peggy whispered, wiping her eyes. “I know.”

If you walked down to the beach at 10:17 and paused at the top of the path for long enough to hear the whispers of grass and the hiss of wind through trees, and if you listened beyond those sounds, you'd hear someone breathing, soft sobs maybe. If you payed close enough attention, you might notice the boy with long brown hair tied back in a ponytail and dark eyes watching the scene play out.

Alexander Hamilton’s eyes were wet, but he was smiling, happy to see that the damage he had done was starting to heal, and sad because those were letters that he had poured his heart and soul into. With every letter that burned, he left a tiny piece of his soul drift off with them, flying into the beyond. He wondered what would happen to those scraps of memories. Perhaps they'd fly so night that eventually they'd breach the atmosphere and be immortalized as stars, forever a reminder of his wrongs, a constant angel above them all.

Maybe they'd all begin to heal.

If you walked down to the beach at 10:23pm on this specific Sunday night, you'd see a group of college kids crowded around a rather large fire. You'd see tears of lava on cheeks and fire burning through this coffin we call a body. You'd see the ancient shadows carving a home for themselves on young faces.

Maybe you'd ignore that, looking instead to the sky, where you'd see the scraps of love, of loss, of beautiful words and terrible betrayal floating away in a cloud of memories. Maybe you'd hear the soft voice of a boy reading those words, putting meaning behind every syllable. Maybe you'd hear how his words start to grow empty and cold and lifeless. Maybe you'd start to understand why these papers were being destroyed.

Because a promise is a promise and the boy with fire and starlight packed inside of a broken body swore that he'd burn it all, and he'd had enough with broken promises.

_I'll never leave you.  
_

_I'll always be here.  
_

_Yours…  
_

_I love you._

John wiped his eyes, smiling away the shattered vows. I loved you, he thought. _I loved and I loved you, and you hurt me. I want to forgive you, because I want us back, but I can't. I won't be hurt by you anymore._

Eliza took his hand, leaning her head against his shoulder. There was nothing to say, just silence and reflection. Her eyes glowed with the firelight, a smile curving her lips.

_I loved you,_ she thought. _I truly did, but I can't forgive you. Not yet anyways. I have to heal before we can mend._

Together, hands joined in a pact of solitude and mutual understanding, and the two thought the same thing, eyes reflecting infinite stars. Grief and bittersweet happiness entwined, braiding their thoughts together, sending them out to two people somewhere out there.

_I still love you._


	83. Chapter 83

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: sexual and physical abuse

Maria couldn't sleep, not with the hot, snakelike body behind her, cruel hands pressed against her chest and crotch against her ass. She didn’t know his name, but that didn't matter, because tomorrow, James would drive her to school and pay for her lunch and hurt anyone who called her a slut or a whore.

The man, a friend of James, murmured something and brushed his lips against her neck. “Maria, I know you're awake,” he said in a deep growl. Maria stiffened.

“I am,” she whispered.

He sat up, gazing down at her, then to the clock. 1:46am. “I'm ready to go again,” he said, eyes glinting.

Maria shrank back. She didn't mind the sex, it was rather good, but this part, before she could forget who was on top of her and replace his face with someone else's…this was the part she hated.

It wasn't rape, she thought, not really. She consented every time, never was forced, but it wasn't fun, it wasn't equal. She had her fair share of being pinned down, choked, and slapped. But it wasn't rape, because she liked what she'd get out of it, because James would stroke her cheek and tell her that she had been good, and he'd give her food and a bed and beautiful clothes.

Because it was worth it.

Maria smiled, pushing her hair out of her face. She crawled over to him and sat down on his lap. He smirked, twirling her hair with his finger. “Lets go then,” she murmured, dragging her lips against his jaw, teasing and sultry.

He pulled her down on top of him, rough hands becoming rougher as they pulled her clothing aside, tossing it onto the floor. She leaned down and kissed him, letting him flip so she was underneath him, letting him kiss down her neck, her chest, letting his hands explore her skin.

She wanted Eliza.

When he stripped his shirt off, letting light shine on his abs, as if they were something to be proud of, and his dark hair tickled her skin as he began to kiss her stomach, she wanted Eliza.

When his hawk-like eyes scrutinized every bit of her, digging into her very soul, the centre of her being, she wanted Eliza.

When her body hurt and tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, dripping down the side of her face, she wanted Eliza.

The man sat up suddenly, taking all tension and weight off of her. His eyes were wide, confused. “What did you just say?”

Maria bit her lip, digging through her brain for his name. “Jensen?” she guessed meekly.

“Eliza.”

Her blood ran cold. “What?”

The man glared at her. “You said Eliza.”

“No,” she insisted. “You must have misheard me. I'm sure I said Jensen.” The slap shut her up. It wasn't the first time she'd be hit by one of James’ “customers”, but it was always shocking.

“Don't lie to me, you bitch!” he shouted. Maria shrank down. “You fucking whore! I'm getting a refund.” As if she was a product, an object.

“Please don't go, sir!” she cried, throwing herself towards him. James would hurt her if she lost him this money. Even now, she knew he was standing in his room, listening.

“I don't want you!” he snarled, slapping her again. “Dirty little slut.”

There were tears welling in her eyes now, and her cheeks stung. “Please don't leave me!” she begged. “I am helpless!” He stopped as he stooped to grab his clothes, looking at her. “Let him keep the money and you can have me! Whatever you want, just pay and you can stay!”

Jensen stood, dropping his clothes, staring at her. “Whatever I want?” he crooned, touching her cheek with the back of his hand.

Maria wanted to cry but she nodded, putting on that face, the face of a mistress. “Whatever you want,” she murmured, deepening her voice to a soft growl.

“Whatever I want,” he repeated, pushing down into the pillows. His dirty hands started to explore again. 

Ten minutes later, at 2:23am, Maria was gripping his back, shaking with sobs and the force of his body. Her nails left long scratches in his skin and she prayed that his wife would notice them. It hurt, but she could have a roof over her head and food on her plate and clothes on her back.

It was worth it.

///

James Reynolds was a king among kings.

He was a snake, able to maneuver between lies and bargains with ease. He was a master of his craft, a merchant king. He knew the loopholes of the laws, knew how to cover and sneak through thorn bushes and mazes.

He'd met Maria when she was fifteen, young, wide eyed, and impressionable. He'd been twenty, working as a TA in her art classes. From the moment he saw her, laughing, confident, he'd know she'd be the most successful he'd even had, but he'd need to have her first.

He took to woo her with soft words and gentle hands, standing behind her to help mold her sculptures. He'd bring food for her, offer to take her out. It didn't take long for her to fall hard, being as naive and young as she was. They'd started to date when she was sixteen, and he had told her he was only eighteen when, in fact, he was twenty one. He kept it up until she turned eighteen, and moved out of her single mother’s home and in with him. He'd convinced her to take a gap year off in between college, and that's when it all started.

The first time had been the most difficult, setting up for her to find him beat and bruised in their living room. He explained his situation, about the girls, the sex, the money. He lied that he needed to pay a massive debt and the only way to get the money was to sell girls, and a select few guys, out for money. Lovestruck and slightly intoxicated, she was easily swayed into offering up her own body.

When things began to escalate, she'd been made servant to her circumstances, unable to escape, to get a job, he'd offered to allow her to live off of him so long as she kept up the work. She'd agreed. With her body, face, and age, he'd had so many consistent costumers that he'd been named King of the Cons, by many of the people who were in the same business as him.

She'd been the most successful of any girl he'd ever had. Dolley, who had come before Maria, had been boring, refused to sleep with him because of her values. On their two year anniversary, he'd finally snapped and tore off her hijab in a fit of rage. She'd taken her stuff and left after that. James had been glad because she wouldn't have worked anyways, too wise and sensible.

Maria, however, was still so dependent and stupid. She needed him. James pulled away from his thoughts as footsteps echoed through the hall. He opened the door, smirking the snake like smile. “Jensen,” he greeted. “You said you'd pay me the rest after the deed.” He held out his hand. 

Grudgingly, the tall man pulled two twenties from his pocket. “She's a good one, that girl,” he rumbled. “You'd do well to teach her how to respect a man though.”

“I'll assume you enjoyed it,” James said, ignoring the advice. “She's booked through the next week, but I can get you in next Monday.”

Jensen shook his head. “I'll try some other sluts, Reynolds. This one was a bit boring.” With that, he turned and stormed into the hall. James heard the door slam shut.

Rage kindled in his chest. That whore had lost him his money, had cost him a potential three hundred dollars. He marched over to her room and slammed open the door. “Maria!”

Maria was changing into a loose nightdress that he had provided. She froze, eyes wide with terror. Tears were running down her face. “I'm sorry!” she cried, cowering.

“You've failed, you fucking bitch!” he snarled, pulling the neckline of the dress until it tore.

“I'll do better!” she sobbed, writhing in a futile attempt to get away. “I'm sorry

James lifted her by her waist, hitting her against the door. She screamed as the wood splintered. “Bitch!” he spat, dropping her. She crashed against the tiled floor and lay unmoving for a long moment, shoulders shaking with sobs. “You cannot fail again,” he crooned, softening his voice and crouching to stroke her hair. “Without you, I am ruined.”

Maria nodded, curling into herself. “I'm sorry. It won't happen again.”

“It had better not.” He stood, towering over her, and turned to leave. At the very last second, he aimed a kick at her head, causing her to shriek in pain.

Maria lay there, feeling sticky blood on her back and her head. She felt dizzy, even laying down. She'd fucked up, she'd fucked up so badly. She started to sob, huge gasping breaths. She couldn't breathe properly, couldn't do anything. The world was falling down around her and it was burning, everything was on fire.

She wanted to scream, wanted to die, and suddenly, all the noise in her head went silent. She thought she could hear singing.

_Look around, look around at how lucky you are to be alive right now._

Eliza.

_Look around, look around._

Where did you go?

_You're safe right now._

Eliza, I need you with me.

_You save your strength to leave, please go._

I can't.

_You'll have to find a home._

I need you with me.

She was going insane, Maria thought distantly, hearing the voice get softer and softer until it faded into nothingness. She was going to die here, alone, and insane.

If only she could go back in time, try and make everything right. If she could have just said no. Then a blackness surrounded her, and she drifted into unconsciousness


	84. Chapter 84

Herc got discharged the next day.

He waited until school had let out and Thomas could drive Laf to pick him up. He still felt slightly off, slightly nauseous, slightly weak, and he'd chosen to take a few days off of work.

While he waited for Laf to come pick him up, he thought about Alexander, for the first time what he was going through. It couldn't be easy, loosing everyone overnight, living with that sort of guilt, but the pain was self inflicted. He had chosen to publish that Pamphlet, chosen to destroy everything. And yet he wanted to make amends, wanted to have friendships and wanted to repair the damage he had done, so who would Herc be if he didn't give him this chance?

“Mon amour,” Laf greeted, opening the door. They were pushing a wheelchair. They were wearing sweat pants and a huge t-shirt, looking tired. “How are you?”

Herc smiled, leaning up to his kiss them. “Hey, Beautiful. I'm fine.” He took in their appearance, looking at them with sympathy. “One of those days?”

Laf shrugged, sighing. “It's not bad. I took Sam to his appointment with the therapist.” They smiled, but it seemed forced, sitting down beside Herc. “They want to get him started on T in a week.”

“Oh, that's fantastic!” he exclaimed, smiling. “That's amazing!”

“He's really excited.” They took his arm. “Come on.” They gestured to the chair.

“There is no way in hell I’m getting in that!” Herc exclaimed.

Laf crossed their arms, smiling. “It's either that or I'm leaving you here.”

Herc sighed. He hated being seen as weak, as needy, but Laf’s hands were pulling him towards the chair and he complied, letting them ease him into the chair. “I hate you,” he sighed, shifting. “This chair is too fucking small.”

“It was the only size left,” Laf said, kissing his head. “Let me take care of you.”

He couldn't help it, he complied. He sat back, letting them push the chair down the hallway into the elevator, long hands brushing his shoulders. “I love you,” he murmured. “You're an angel.”

“Shut up,” they muttered. “I love you too.” 

Herc could tell they had a question on the tip of their tongue but was too nervous to ask. “What is it?” he asked, twisting to look up at them.

They shook their head. “Nothing.”

“Don't “nothing” me.”

They shook their head again, more violently. “We’ll talk later.”

“Later” turned out to be an hour later, lying in bed together. Herc had started to feel dizzy again and they had forced him into bed, fussing until he demanded they join him. Now, simply laying there, faces inches apart, Laf finally asked, “how's Hamilton?”

“He's…stressed. He does want to make amends,” Herc said honestly.

They snorted, hands straying to their arm again. “How does he plan to do that?”

“I don't know.” He hesitated. “Maybe…”

“What?”

“Maybe you should give him a chance?”

Laf sat up, eyes sharp and disbelieving. “Are you kidding me?” they snapped. “Give him a chance? After what he did to me!”

Herc sighed, slowly sitting up. “Angel, I didn't mean that you need to forgive him, just…”

“Just what? Just tolerate him? Talk to him? Face him and know that he hurt me intentionally, knowing about my past?” They closed their eyes, face crumpling. “I'm sorry, I'm not mad at you.”

Herc took their hand, squeezing it. “Angel, my Angel, it's okay.” He felt guilt resonate in his chest. He hated being the cause of their pain or their anger.

“He's done too much to me, to us all, to be forgiven just like that,” they whispered, trying hard not to cry. “I still can't help but think back to when he said that, and I know that I should just get over it, and I know that I need to, but he doesn't know…he doesn't know how fucking close I've been to-“ They shook their head, closing their eyes.

Herc felt his heart breaking. He enveloped them in his arms, feeling emotion clog his throat. “I have a feeling that don't know how many times you've been close either.” They tensed. “You don't have to tell me,” he whispered. “You just need to stay alive. That would be enough.”

“I'm sorry,” they whispered back. “I'm sorry that I'm making you take care of me so soon after getting out of the hospital. I'm sorry that I keep breaking down like this. I'm sorry I overreacted. I'm sorry that I just…I can't be okay.”

Herc pulled back, holding their face in his hands. “Do you know all I want is you? Anything you do is alright, yes, it's alright. Everything will be alright.” He brushed his thumb under their eye, wiping away a tear.

They exhaled, smiling slightly. “Everything will be alright.”  
He lay back down, starting to feel lightheaded. Laf settled next to him. “You alright?” he asked.

“Don't worry about me,” they said softly.

“I'm always worried about you,” Herc said, brushing back a piece of their hair. “You'll never change that.”

Laf sighed. “If I had never….if I'd never tried to, you know, would you still worry about me?”

Herc kissed their forehead. “You can't help to be worried about the ones you love, no matter their past.”

Laf shook their head, rolling over so their back was facing Herc. “It's not the past,” they whispered.

“What?” Herc felt his blood solidify into ice.

“It's not the past, not how you meant.” They shrunk into themself. “There have been times…times more recently, and I just…fuck.”

He reached out, touching their shoulder. “You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” I want to help you…

“It's…” They took a shuddering breath and rolled back over. “It's just…I love you so much. You're my heart, my soul, everything good in me. I'm a mess, broken clockwork, I can't be fixed completely. I'm too fucked up for that, and I don't want to drag you down with me when I fall. I don't want to weight you and Thomas and James and John down.”

“What are you saying?”

“For a while now, I've had this…this idea that if I can just get myself out of the picture, if I am gone before I fall, no one will fall with me. If I'm dead, everything will be okay.” They sounded empty, unfeeling, and it was terrible.

Herc felt a tear run down his cheek, and then another and another and another. “Don't ever say that,” he whispered, voice throaty and harsh. He couldn't live in a world without them, couldn't make himself get up every morning and know that his bed would always be empty, that no one would kiss his neck and wrap their arms around his waist when he made breakfast. “Don't ever fucking act like we wouldn't gladly go down with you, that I would not risk everything for you, that Thomas could survive without you. Don't act like any of us could deal if you…” He couldn't finish.

“Say it,” they whispered, touching his cheek. “Say it, because if I do, you need to be able to.”

He shook his head. “I can't.”

“Say it.”

Herc bit his lip, closing his eyes. “If you…if you killed yourself.”

They laughed, almost relieved. “They're just words, my love. If I kill myself, you'll all be able to manage. I'm just weighing you down, and I cannot do that. I don't care how I did anymore, but I just…I can't be the person who tethers you to failure and depression. Mon amour, please don't cry.” They sat up, wiping their eyes. “I'm going out.”

Herc felt his heart drop. He knew now that if they went out, they likely wouldn’t be coming back. “Please don't,” he begged, sitting up. “Laf, please…” He grabbed their arm, freezing them.

“Please let go,” they whispered. “Mon amour…”

“No,” Herc said furiously. “No, no, I can't. You're…you're everything to me, I can't let you…hurt…yourself. Not now, not ever.”  
They shook their head. “My love, please. I won't go out then, I'll just go to the living room.” 

Slowly, Herc released them and they stumbled out into the hallway. He sat there for a moment in silence, soaking up their conversation. He couldn't imagine life without them, couldn't imagine surviving knowing they were dead. He hadn't known it had been this bad, that they were this messed up. He wondered how much more they were keeping inside.

Why couldn't they all be alright?

Why wouldn't they just be happy?

He took out his phone, sending a text to Thomas.

_Herc: Laf’s not okay rn  
_

_Thomas: how bad?  
_

_Herc: as bad as the bridge  
_

_Thomas: fuck  
_

_Thomas: I’m on my way_

Herc set the phone down, staring at the wall. He listens intently to the relentless pacing in the living room and wondered if he should go out and check on them. After a moment, he stood, leaning against the bed frame as his head spun. He knew he needed to go eat, that despite the IV, he still wasn't entirely okay. As he entered the hallway, his vision started to go blurry, shifting from black to normal, and he stumbled against the wall. “Laf!” he cried out, knees buckling.

Within moments, he felt arms around his chest, supporting him, dragging him onto the sofa. “Stay with me, my love.” He felt their breath on the back of his neck, heard them hurry away and return, tilting his head up and pressing a washcloth to his forehead.

“I'm okay,” he grunted, blinking until his vision cleared. “Just need eat something.”

Laf was gazing down at him, not quite meeting his eyes. “If that happens again, I'm driving you back to the hospital,” they swore, kissing him gently as he began to protest.

“I'm fine,” he insisted. “Just blacked out for a second.”

“People who are “fine” don't do that,” they pointed out, standing. “What do you want to eat?”

He shrugged. “I'll take whatever. What do we have?”

They opened the fridge. “We have…um, ice cream, soda, milk, and…fuck, maybe there's something in the cabinets.” He heard a cabinet door open. “We've got bread and chips.”

“We need to go shopping,” Herc groaned. He heard their breath catch. “What?”

They closed the door. “We don't have enough money,” they said softly. “My fund is running out faster than either of us anticipated, my parents are taking money out of it. We still have to pay the hospital bill, and my next years of college .”

Herc dropped his head into his hands. “I'll go to work tomorrow,” he said. “We need money. My payday is in three days.”

There came the sound of another cabinet slamming and Laf appeared back in his field of vision. “No,” they said, almost panicked. “No, you can't go to work. You need to rest! I couldn't…I couldn't live if I saw you in the hospital again.”

Herc took their hand and pressed it felt against his chest. “Feel that?” They nodded. “That's my heartbeat. It's strong and healthy and so is my body. I'm going to be fine, and so are you. We’re going to figure this out.”

“Together?” Laf asked, smiling.

Herc opened his mouth to respond, but a knock on the door interrupted him. They stood, pulling their hand away, and went to open it. Thomas poked his head in, catching Herc’s eye. “Hi,” he said awkwardly. “I just wanted to drop by and make sure everything is okay.”

“You can come in,” Laf said with a half smile. “Sit down.” They sat by Herc’s head, letting him rest it in their legs. Thomas sank into a chair.

“You feeling better?” he asked, aiming the question at Herc, who shrugged.

“Good as new. I'm going back to work tomorrow,” he said.

Laf glared at him. “Excuse me? We just talked about this, mon amour!” They glanced up at Thomas. “You have the final vote. Is he going or is he taking the week off?”

Thomas thought for a moment. “You're staying home,” he decided. “Take three days off, counting today.”

Neither Laf or Herc looked entirely satisfied, but they both settled for the answer. “Hey, Laf?” Herc asked. “I thought I heard someone outside, could you check?”  
“

Of course.” They kissed his forehead and went out to check.

Thomas glanced at him questioningly. “You didn't hear anything, what was that about?”

“They're acting fine now,” Herc whispered, “but earlier, they were talking about suicide, how they don't want to weight us down when they fall and how it would easier if they were dead. Thomas, I don’t know what to do anymore! Whenever I try and help them, I always fall flat. I can't do anything else for them.”

Thomas closed his eyes, dropping his head. “I didn't know it was this bad,” he whispered. “The only thing I can think of is forcing them into therapy or something, but that wouldn't end well.” He'd promised them what seemed like years ago to never admit them. He really didn't want to break that.

“That crossed my mind,” Herc admitted. “I can't loose them, I just can't.”

“I can try and talk to Washington- I'm sure Laf’s told you about him. He sees them like a child, maybe he could do something.”

“I don't know,” he sighed. The door opened and Laf stepped in.

“No one,” they reported, oblivious to the conversation Thomas and Herc had just been having. They smiled but their eyes were dark and tired.

Was it too much to ask for them just to be happy?


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4/20 blaze it  
> TW for homophobic langauge

It hadn't been planned, hadn't been wanted.

Eliza had gone out to study music history at 9:24pm at the library. She hadn't expected to see him, hadn't expected to have him talk to her, but what could she do?

Perhaps it was fate.

The library was almost empty, Eliza noted as she scanned the shelves. It was unusual for a Monday night, but she wasn't complaining. Studying in the silence was comforting, safe. She pulled out a book, turned and ran face first into Alexander Hamilton.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, as she grabbed his arm to stop him from toppling over. He dropped the two books he was holding and bent to pick them up. “Fuck, sorry.” Then he looked up and his expression changed, regret filling his eyes. “Oh my god…”

“Don't,” Eliza whispered, stepping away. She felt like there was a noose around her neck, like she was going to her grave. “Hamilton, please don't.”

“I'm so sorry,” he said softly, and she knew she meant it.

Every part of her wanted to hate him, walk away and leave him here, but she couldn't. She just couldn't do it. She was too kind, too forgiving, and his face was lined with shame and regret as he stood there, looking up at her with those brown eyes. “I know,” she murmured. “I know.”

He offered a small smile, which she returned. “Eliza,” he began. “Eliza, I-“

“Don't,” she said softly. “You don't have to apologize, not to me. Well, I guess you do, but that's beside the point.”

“I have to,” Hamilton insisted gently. “It's the only way I can live with myself.”

She nodded, setting her book down on the shelf. “Yeah?” She didn't want to hear these excuses, these sugared words, an attempt to lessen the pain and guilt.

Hamilton lowered his head, failing to meet her eyes. “It was my fault,” he began. “Everything that's happened has been my fault; Herc collapsing, Laf…everything about them, your pain, John's lack of self care, Maria’s absence. It's all been my fault.” He felt tears start to press into his throat, as if saying, “is this our cue?” He cleared his throat, trying to force the words out. “I just need to believe that what I did was the right thing, even when I know it wasn't, because if I can believe then I don't have to see what I really did.” He looked away, remembering the red nights, the fuzz of alcohol, the potent smell of sex. He remembered that hotel, soft skin under his body, how different and enthralling the female figure was.

“Hamilton?” Eliza asked, looking concerned.

Hamilton shook his head, smiling sadly. “I’d rather pretend that I've done something more than break us all apart, because I can't face myself knowing that nothing ended well. I'd rather pretend that I'm something better than these broken pieces, because then I don't have to look at this mess, and I can believe that no one can look at it.”

Her hands were soft, forgiving on his. “You can't pretend,” she murmured in a calm voice, soft and sparkling, like water.

“I know,” he said softly. “I know, so I have to face the music. I have to apologize to you, Maria, Laf, and John. None of you deserved this. I’d change it if I could, Eliza Schuyler, you don't have to forgive me. No one has to forgive me because I don't deserve it. I just need you to hear me and hear what I needed to say to live with myself.” He looked at her, anxious and wary.

Eliza nodded slowly, smiling. “I can't forgive you, Alexander. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive you for what you've done, but I can try to look past it. It won't be easy, it won't be consistent, and you can expect my sisters to react the same way as I have, but I think we all deserve a second chance.”

Alexander looked like he might cry, might drop to his knees and praise her, but instead he simply smiled and sniffed back tears. “That's more than I could ever ask for,” he said softly, then he turned and walked away.

She wouldn't see him again for perhaps two months.

////

James sighed, slamming his laptop shut. The librarian looked over, eyes narrowed at the noise. She was a stout, short woman who reminded him a toad took- probably poisonous. He pondered the comparison, wondering if a person would truly be poisonous.

He didn't think so.

“Well, well, well…” came a voice saturated with disgust. “If it isn't the faggot. Where's the top? We’ve got the bottom here.”

Turns out, he was wrong.

James looked up, keeping his face carefully emotionless. “Lee. It's a pleasure.”

“Is it?” Charles Lee asked, leaning against the table. “Is it really?”

 _No, I want to punch you._ James smiled sharply. “Why wouldn't it be? If you weren't here, I wouldn't have the chance to correct you.”

“And how do you mean?”

James shrugged, leaning back. “Reverse the roles you put Thomas and I in.” He didn't care at this point, and he knew Thomas wouldn't care either. 

Lee snorted in disgust. “Fags.”

James felt annoyance stir in his chest. “Lee, if you've been thinking about Thomas and my sex life, I might not be the only fag here.”

“Clever,” Lee sneered. “You come up with that one yourself or did Jefferson? Seems like you can't do anything without him. Look at you; you're a half person without him attached to your dick.”

James winced internally. It was a low blow, but he knew it was true. He was his best, most full self when he and Thomas next to him. Granted, it was probably good he wasn't here. They didn't need any more physical fights. He shrugged off the comment, internalizing it to think about later. “Again, for a straight guy, you seem to think a lot about dicks. Denial is unhealthy, man.”

Lee glared at him, eyes shooting bullets. In a swift movement, he grabbed the collar of James’ shirt, pulling him towards him and leaning in so his breath was hot against James’ ear. “Should have taken Seabury’s job for him,” he whispered. “You'd be dead.”

The words sent a shiver of fear down his spine and he wretched himself away. “Fuck off,” he hissed. “Leave us alone!”

“You? Gladly. We've had our fun, Madison. You're boyfriend? His fun hasn't even begun.” With that, Lee turned and walked away, weaving his lithe figure between bookshelves.

_His fun hasn't even begun._

He'd come too close…far too close to loosing Thomas before.

 _His fun hasn't even begun_.

James felt icy dead slide through his veins. He stumbled over picking up his laptop and bolted out the door, feeling sick to his stomach. Whatever they were planning, it scared him terribly. He couldn't imagine…

“Madison?”

Oh god, not right now. James looked up, turning slowly. He felt his heart sink as he saw the familiar messy, long hair hair and tired eyes. “Hamilton,” he said indifferently. 

Hamilton looked hesitant, cautiously stepping forward. “I saw Lee,” he said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Why would you care? Wondering if he said anything about you since you're the only person you seem to care about?” Pent up rage seeped slowly into his voice despite the barriers he set up to control it.

“There's no need to be like that,” Hamilton replied mildly. “It’s not like anything I did effect you.” He swept his hair back, looking offhandedly over his shoulder. James noticed how his eyes scanned the steps as if watching for someone.

Taking a steady breath, James pushed away the night Thomas spent with anxiety attack after anxiety attack, stressed to beyond the point of tears, where even James couldn't calm him. He pushed away the exhausted rants and bleeding knuckles from punching walls in frustration. Thomas wouldn't want Hamilton to know that. He set in place an unshakable smile and nodded. “You're right. If you fuck up your own life, it's not my place to tell you to stop.” Not bothering to wait for a response, he walked away.

There would be a lot to tell Thomas when he got home.  



	86. Chapter 86

Three days passed. 

James yawned, vision blurry as he stared at the screen of his laptop. It was only 4:45. He'd had a shorter day today, got out early.  
He was working at the library, in the backroom, waiting until the book cart was full so he could go put the books back on the shelves. Another book lid into the basket and an assistant about his age put it on the shelf before going back to his book. James looked around tiredly as someone called through the book drop.

“James Madison?”

He stood, shrugging at the assistant as he looked up. “Hey,” he called back through. Peering through it, he could just make out two dark brown eyes. “Hey, Thomas,” he said, a smile spreading across his face.

“Can you let me in?” he asked, moving to hold up a bag of food.

James glanced at the book cart. It was about half full. He had time. “Sure! You know how to get in.” He waited a moment for the inevitable knock that signaled Thomas was there before opening the door with a grin.

Thomas leaned down and kissed him, smiling. “How was your day?”

“It was fine, the usual,” he said, grinning. “Yours? How's Laf?”

He shrugged, handing him the bag. “They're fine. It was boring, but what else is new? I got you a treat and…” with a flourish, he produced a coffee from behind him. “Black, two shots of espresso.”

James laughed, accepting the coffee with gratitude. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Thomas sat in the chair across from where James had been sitting, putting his feet up on the table.

James shoved them off. “Don't do that,” he scolded. “I eat here! I'm doing a double, working until eight and you're bringing me food. You put your feet on the table, you pay.”

Thomas laughed, propping his feet up on James’ lap instead. “Actually you aren't.” He smiled, straightening his collar. James squinted at him, realizing that the button down top and fitted pants were not his usual attire.

“Thomas,” he said slowly, feeling a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “What did you do?”

Thomas shrugged, tilting his head. “I'm sure I don't you what you mean.”

James raised his eyebrows. “What's with the outfit?”

He shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “I talked to your boss. He canceled the second shift. You're off at 5:30. Someone else is covering.”

James stared at him. “Thanks…but why?”

Thomas sighed, rolling his eyes. “Open the bag.”

James slowly opened it, realizing that there was no food in it, but instead a rose with a ticket and a small cloth bag attached to it. “You didn't,” he said slowly, excitement filling his voice. “Thomas, you didn't.” Thomas didn't reply, just watched as James took out the note, slowly reading what it said. “Oh my god!” he whispered, covering his mouth.

Thomas smiled. “You like? It's a place downtown, real fancy shit. I've been waiting weeks for a spot to open.” James stared at him. “I figured,” he continued, “well, we didn't have a great first date…I thought maybe I could make up for that.”

“I…I don't know what to say,” James whispered. “Thomas, this is…I love you so much.”

Thomas smiled, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “I love you,” he said with a smile. “Don't say anything, there's no need.” James looked like he might cry. “Open the pouch.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he pulled a small leather chain out of the bag. In the centre, dangling down was a tiny, hand carven wooden angel charm. James stared at it as if it was the most precious thing he'd ever seen, as if Thomas had pulled the stars from the sky and given it to him. He couldn't speak without being flooded by emotions, instead just looking between Thomas and the charm, lips pressed tightly together.

“If you don't like it, then you don't have to keep it,” Thomas said hurriedly. “I just…thought it was cool, but, you know, you don't have to keep it if you don't want to.”

James shut him up with a kiss, setting the angel aside and pulling him across the table by the collar of his shirt. Everything he couldn't say, all the love and thankfulness and everything he couldn't name was poured into the kiss. “I love you,” he whispered. “I love it.”

Thomas smiled against his mouth. “I love you.” He pulled away, looking a little flushed.

“You made it, didn't you?” James asked, gently touching the angel, tracing the tiny patterns on its wings.

Thomas nodded, clearing his throat. “Yeah.”

“When? We’ve been basically in the same room for weeks…” He snorted as the realization hit him. “You asked Laurens for help, didn't you?”

“You know what?” Thomas joked, the tips of his ears red. “I'm canceling the fucking date if you give me grief about that.”

James laughed, slipping the band around his head. The angel rested perfectly an inch below his clavicle. “It's beautiful,” he murmured, voice warm and sweet. “Jesus fuck, I love you so much.”

Thomas took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “You're perfect, you know? Flawless. I love you.”

James blushed, pulling his hand back. “Stop it,” he said softly. “Neither of us are perfect, that's why we work together so well.”

Thomas laughed, reaching out to touch the necklace. “I changed my mind. You’re terrible. Why am I dating you?”

“Because you love me,” James said with a grin, leaning over and kissing his cheek. “And I love you.”

Neither of them noticed the assistant leave, grimacing to himself.

After his shift ended, James followed Thomas out to the car. He was starving, not having eaten since school got out. Thomas had offered to pick something up for him, but he'd turned him down. “I want to be hungry for when we go out.”

“The drive is about a half hour,” Thomas said softly, opening the door so James could slide in.

“Such a gentlemen,” James teased, looping his pinky through Thomas’ hand. “I feel underdressed. I mean, you look incredible.”

Thomas laughed, sliding in the driver's side. “You always look incredible, but I brought you a shirt just in case.” He reached behind them and pulled out a bag with a white shirt neatly folded in it.

James smiled, taking it. “Should I just change now?”

“Go ahead,” Thomas said, eyeing him with a smirk as he began to pull off his shirt.

“Start driving, you jerk,” James told him, voice muffled from the fabric.

Minutes later, they were driving down an empty road. James turned up the radio, feeling a sense of euphoria full him. It had been so long since they had something like this, something other than pain. He smiled over at Thomas, who was watching him with sparkling eyes.  
“What are we doing after?” he purred, leaning over to kiss James.

James pushed his face away. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Eyes on the road.”

Thomas chuckled. He looked happy, alive, more so that James had seen him in a long time. He'd missed this more than he'd thought, and by the look in Thomas’ eyes and the lively atmosphere surrounding them, he felt the same way.

It was 6:21pm when they pulled into the parking lot of a beautiful restaurant. James gaped, staring at Thomas in shock. “This is…holy fuck, we’re eating here?”

Thomas laughed, sliding out and stretching his legs. “Yeah. You can imagine how long it took to get a reservation, can't you?”

James opened the door, feeling a cool breeze hit his face. “How expensive was it?” he worried.

“Pretty expensive, to be honest, but don't worry- I was able to put it on my dad’s card.” He offered an arm to James, who was watching him in disbelief.

James took it, shaking his head. “I can't believe you sometimes, Thomas.”

The interior of the restaurant was breath taking. It was very gently lit with blue lights, giving the entire place an underwater air. Fairy lights strung across murals of trees and intricate designs of nature. Couples sat quietly, talking in delicate whispers, living in their own bubbles. James had never felt more out of place, but with Thomas next to him, it was okay.

A tall, slim woman lead them to a table. Thomas’ eyes narrowed as her hand skimmed over James’ for just a second too long to be accidental. She offered to get them drinks and both of them decided on water. Her gaze hovered on James as she spoke, introducing herself as Silvia. When she finally left, Thomas let out a deep breath.

“Jealous?” James asked teasingly. “Now you know what it's like to be me and have girls and guys- and everyone else- watching you all the time.”

“That doesn't happen,” Thomas said indignantly.

“It does,” James told him seriously, a smile trying to breach the barricade he'd made. “Every time we go out in public.”

Thomas coughed, looking down at his menu. “What looks good?”

“You.”

He laughed. “Fuck off!”

“Everything,” James said honestly.

“Get anything you want,” Thomas snorted. “It's my dad’s card, not mine.”

Silvia came back a few minutes later. James ordered a soup and sandwich combo and Thomas went with a fish fillet. Unlike the last time, James didn't care about how expensive the food was.

“Remember our first date?” James asked, one hand toying with the angel, the other in Thomas’.

Thomas bit his lip, nodding. “Not all of it, but yeah.”

It could be worse, James reminded himself as the disappointment set in. He could be… No thoughts like that tonight. “The dinner was lovely, but we were worried about money,” he remembered. “A homophobic couple was sitting near us so we made out until they stopped talking to us.”

Thomas closed his eyes, face screwed up, grasping for memories. “It was a nice restaurant. You looked amazing.”  
James smiled, heart warming. “It seems like a million years ago,” he sighed. “So much has happened.”

“But we’re both still okay, aren't we? That's what matters,” Thomas murmured. “We've been through a lot.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. I never want you to leave me.

They fell into a silence, listening to the quiet murmur of people and the soft clinks of silverware. It was comfortable, even when older couples stared at them in distaste- either for being underdressed or gay. It didn't matter because they were together and, like Thomas had said, they were both okay, and that's what matters.

Silvia brought their food and left her number under James’ plate. He laughed and showed it to Thomas, who made a half sour and half impressed face, and took a sip of his water. “I missed this,” he admitted, taking a bite of his food.

James raised his eyebrows. “Missed what?”

“Us,” he explained. “Just…us, together, not having to worry about anyone or anything.”

James smiled, taking a bite of his sandwich and scratched his cheek. “I missed that too.”

“This year, this school year has been so…stressful, sad. I mean, I still can't remember all of it.” He laughed softly, toying with the part of his hair that was shorter than the rest, hidden by his part.  
James looked sad for a second, watching Thomas shudder and go back to his food. “Have you gotten anything else back? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

He shrugged, setting the fork and knife aside. “I remember being so angry I could kill someone and I remember you screaming for me, and…” he shook his head. “Somewhere, just in the very, very back of my consciousness, I can remember you holding me.”

James looked away, face screwing up in pain at the memory. “I held you until the ambulance came. It was the only thing I could do. I wasn’t enough.”

Thomas shook his head, heart breaking. He stood up and and walked behind James’ chair, wrapping his arms around his neck. “You did so much more than you know,” he whispered, kissing his neck. “You gave me a reason to try and remember. I'd have gladly forgot all of the pain, but you- you and Laf- gave me something to work for, to live for. I can never ever repay you for that.”

James lowered his head, hands wrapped around Thomas’. “You've repaid me enough by just remembering me. What would I have done without my angel?”

Thomas smiled, gently pulling his hand away and touching the carven angel on his chest. “No matter what happens to me, you'll always have that,” he murmured. “I'll always be there.”

“I don't like when you talk like that. Like something is going to happen to you. Not on my watch.”  
“I'll stop then.” He kissed his cheek one last time and walked back over to his chair. “Let's try and avoid sad topics.”

James laughed softly. “What topics relevant to our lives aren't sad? Almost nothing good has happened.”

“We met,” Thomas said with a laugh, taking another rather large bite.

“Do you remember that?” James asked, raising an eyebrow.

Thomas shrugged. “I gave you a cough drop. You looked terrified.”

James nodded, smiling. “I never thought that this would happen."

He laughed, eyes glowing with affection. “When you found me out by your dorm…that was when I knew I was done for. It's so cliche but I'd never met anyone so…I don't know, kind, wonderful.”

“I love you.” He took his hands, running a finger over his knuckles. For some reason, he thought about how a ring might look on those beautiful hands.

“I love you too.” Thomas’ eyes widened. “To think it hadn't even been a year yet.”

“It hasn't been,” James said in wonder. “It feels like forever. I guess it's just everything that's happened. How many couples can say that they've been through what we've been through?”

“Probably not many.”

The lights cast a greenish gloss over everything, making it seem unreal, feathered. James’ eyes were cast downward as he ate, the light shining down on his back, tinting his skin. Thomas rented his hands, picking at his food. He never wanted to take his eyes off this boy, never wanted to leave his side.

Everything was well.

 


	87. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all...the Hamildrop today...I think I've listened to it upwards of 50 times now...It's so good I'm cryi g

They payed at 7:31 and left, the dawning darkness the enveloped them as they walked out was eerily similar to that on their first date. James slipped his hand into Thomas’, looking around.

“We’re okay,” Thomas said softly, but when James looked at him, he saw that his jaw was clenched and his eyes were nervously darting around.

James leaned his head against his arm, one hand toying with the necklace. “We’re okay, Angel. I promise you.”

They walked to the car. James slipped into the driver's side and Thomas sat shotgun, still looking around with a paranoid expression. “What now?” he asked, glancing over at James with a half smile.

James shrugged, leaning over to kiss him. “We can go home, or we can just drive.”

“Just drive,” Thomas murmured, smiling against his lips. “I trust you.”

He smiled and pulled out into the empty road. Thomas turned on the radio and music filtered into the car, filling every corner, dousing everything in music. Songs they didn't know the words to flew out the windows, sending a sense of euphoria through the car.

The night was calm, warm, and the wind buffeted Thomas’ hair. Laughing, he leaned partly out the window, one hand gripping the roof and the world soared by. Warm wind whipped his face, stinging his eyes.

“Thomas!” James laughed, pulling him back inside the car. “What are you doing?”

“It's fun,” Thomas grinned, sliding his head back in. “My hair is gonna be an absolute mess, but that's okay.”

James tilted his head up, letting the wind wash across his face. The stars shone bright and beautiful above the world, twinkling down on the little car. He looked back at the empty road stretching in front of the them and imagined it was leading them up into the sky. Thomas took his hand.

“Where to?” he asked.

James leaned over and kissed him. “Wherever you want.”

“Eyes on the road,” Thomas said playfully, echoing the words James had said previously. “Just drive. We don't need a destination.”

James smiled, pressing down the gas until they were speeding down the stretch of empty road, wind whipping his face. It felt good, it felt natural, and he never wanted to stop. Thomas turned the radio up higher, letting the songs blast through the car and for a second they were kids again, letting all their worries, all their pain and sorrow wash away with the music. They were light as air, floating somewhere beyond pain, beyond exhaustion.

 _This is how it should be,_ James realized. _This is how I should feel. We shouldn’t be dealing with all this shit, we’re just college kids. We have to live life._

Thomas looked over at him questioning, as if sensing his thoughts. “What's up?” he asked.

 _This is the boy I happen to love,_ James thought, tenderness creeping into his heart. They were lovers, they were fighters, they were friends, and nothing in the world could change that. Sure, they fought, sure, they hurt and they cried, but they wouldn't break. “Nothing,” he said smiling. 

Thomas nodded. A new song came on, tearing through the car. Thomas started to sing along, words whipped from his mouth by the wing.

_They made a statue of us_

James smiled, looking behind them. The road was dark and empty.

 _And put it on a mountainside_  
Now tourists come and stare at us  


Thomas put his hand on his leg, raising his eyebrow. “Come on,” he invited. “Sing with me.”

James laughed. “Alright.”

Together, their voices rose and fell, filling the night with music and laughter. They seemed to fit perfectly, twisting and turning around each other, perhaps a little out of turn but that was okay.

“They'll name a city after us, and later say it's all our fault!” Thomas half sang half shouted, hand still on James’ leg. “Then they'll give us a talking to, then they'll give us a flaming to.” He gave James an expectant look, mouth curved into a smile. “Because they've got years of experience.”

James rolled his eyes. “We’re living in a den of thieves,” he sang quietly, looking at the road. “Rummaging for answers in the pages. We’re living in a den of thieves.” His voice grew louder, filling the car. “And it’s contagious, and its contagious-“

“-and it’s contagious,” Thomas sang, joining. His smile lit up the world, filling the skies with laughter and light. “And it’s contagious.”

_Wear our scarves just like a noose  
But not ‘cause we want eternal sleep_

Thomas’ voice faded. “James, look.”

Standing two hundred feet in front of them was the Jefferson residence. James gasped and pulled over, turning off the radio. “How? I didn't even think we were heading in the right direction. You okay?”

Thomas nodded, opening the door and stepping out. His eyes were unfocused, and he appeared to be lost in thought. James didn't touch him, simply stood back and watched. His hands started shaking. Suddenly, he stumbled backwards, tripping over himself. James grabbed him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Neither of them spoke.

Thomas scanned the area, across the houses, landing on the field across the way. “I remember,” he whispered, voice filled with emotion. “I just…being here…it's starting to come back. I remember my father, you…”

James squeezed his hand, looking out over the moonlight fields. It was as if the grass was dipped in silver and blue. He remembered how Thomas looked underneath him, face flushed and eyes gleaming. He leaned his head against his shoulder.

Memories of that night filled Thomas until he couldn't speak, until he was frozen to the spot. Images flashed in front of his eyes. Of moonlight on bare shoulders, moss and grass beneath him, and James, breathless and beautiful, looking down at him with wide, gorgeous eyes. He felt him pull him back towards the car, hands soft and sweet.

Thomas turned and kissed James, with love, with passion, with lust, and remembrance.

James wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing his body against Thomas’. He felt Thomas’ hand gently lift his shirt and James nodded, pressing his face into his neck, biting at the tender skin there. He pulled Thomas towards the car, pressing him into the door, trapping him.

Thomas pulled back momentarily grazing his lips across the side of James’ jawline. “We’re really going to do this?” he asked.

“If you want.” James murmured, leaning into the touch.

“Open the back,” Thomas breathed. “We’ll need space.”  
He smiled and opened the door, grabbing the keys. The back popped up and he pulled away just long enough to push the seat down and open up a flat, wide space in the back.

“Enough?” James murmured, perching on the back of the car.

Thomas smiled, firmly pushing him down with demanding hands and closing the back, blocking them from sight. James leaned up and pulled him down, nails already scratching along his back as he pulled his shirt off, throwing it into the front of the car and kissing him roughly.

There was a sense of deja vu around this place. Out the window, the field was visible, moonlight and the scattered shadows of clouds painting it just as Thomas remembered, through scattered and broken memories. He smiled as James’ hands traced down to his hips, suddenly and unexpectedly flipping him so that Thomas was under him, spread out.

“Take off your shirt,” Thomas demanded, lips curving into a smile. He began to unbutton the shirt, kissing down his chest as he did so. James allowed him to sit up to do so, relaxing his control over the situation for a moment. He shrugged the shirt off and pushed Thomas down again.

The headlights of another car shone through the back window and James froze for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights, before Thomas pulled him down flat on top of him, hiding them both. The car slowed down for a moment questioningly, before picking up speed again and fading into the night, no doubt having realized what was going down.

Thomas let out a deep breath, laughing as James sat back up, looking slightly annoyed and more than slightly embarrassed. “That was…interesting,” Thomas commented, running a hand down James’ arm.

James laughed, looking out into the darkness, only pierced by the artificial amber glow of streetlights. “At least this road is usually quiet,” he said with a smile, leaning down and firmly kissing Thomas. Back to it.

Slowly, kisses turned rougher and rougher until lips were swollen and red and left purple marks on necks and chests. Slowly, they found themselves with less and less clothes, until only shadows covered them. Moonlight found it difficult to get through windows and illuminate faces so they kissed blindly, relying on feeling and noise alone.

This was not the first time they'd done this, nor the second, nor perhaps the twentieth, but every second was unforgettable, enticing, perfect. The bond of hearts as well as flesh was one so strong that nothing in the world could break it. Not amnesia, not homophobia, not Hamilton. With every challenge, the bond strengthened, growing and changing until it devoured them both, sewing them into the grand tapestry of life.

Together, they moved as one, breathed as one. Every moment alone, free of worry and guilt and sadness, was heaven on earth, every moment together, entwined into the shape of infinity, was irreplaceable, pure and good.

Together.

When the world spun in a sense of euphoria that left them both exhausted and unmoving, with James lying on Thomas’ chest, tracing shapes on his skin, all seemed well. Thomas sighed, chest moving lightly under James’ head.

“That was good,” he commented, turning to look at James. “It's like the biggest “Fuck you” I can give my dad.”

He nodded, smiling. “Yeah.”  
Thomas’ hand curled around his back, lightly brushing the skin there. “Better than our first date?” he joked.

“One thousand time better.” James nuzzled against his chest, pressing lazy kisses against his skin.

Thomas smiled, his chest rising and falling as he sighed. “We’ll have to drive home,” he reminded James gently.

“No,” James murmured and nuzzled sleepily against his skin. His eyes were partly closed, misty and tired.

“Come on, Babe,” Thomas nudged. “We’ll sleep when we get home. Why are you so tired?”  
He yawned, reluctantly rolling off of Thomas. “Simple. I did all the work, you just lay there.”

“Lies,” he argued, smiling in spite of himself.

“Not true,” James countered. “Okay, maybe you did a little, but the vast majority was done by me. You can't deny the truth, Jefferson.”

Thomas laughed, sitting up. “You sure about that, Madison?” he teased.

He shrugged on his shirt, laughing at the loss of Thomas’ face. “Fuck off. Get dressed.”

“Fine,” he sighed, attempting to stretch his long legs out to pull on his underwear and pants.  
James laughed at his struggle, and climbed up into the front seat, looking back at Thomas. “You're driving.”

“That's fair,” Thomas admitted, not bothering to button up his shirt, and following suite. He look a look at the mess that was the back of the car. “How the fuck do you get dressed so fast?”

“I'm magic.”

Thomas smiled, leaning over to kiss him. “Use that magic to clean up the back then.”

James dodged the kiss, smirking. “Go fuck yourself.”

Thomas pursued him, laughing. “I have you to do that for me.”

Giving up, James leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips. “That you do, Jefferson. That you do.”


	88. Chapter 88

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw for transphobia and child abuse flashbacks

Three days later and Lafayette was worried.

It was a side affect of anxiety. They just couldn't help it. They worried about everyone. They worried about his Eliza was coping with knowing Maria was in a bad place, they worried about Maria, they worried about Peggy- constantly trying to grow up too fast, to make a name for herself. They worried about Angelica, being everyone's big sister and putting herself last. They worried about Thomas and James and their codependency. They worried about Samuel Seabury and how hard it was for him to avoid King and Lee. They worried about John and how his body was being pushed to the brink of exhaustion everyday. They even worried about people they couldn't speak to. People like Alexander Hamilton.

They wanted to hate him, knew they should. He was horrible, had destroyed so much, and yet they still couldn't quite bring themself to hate him. Perhaps…they pushed the thought away but it came back, hovering in the back of their mind. Perhaps you still love him, just a little.

 _No_ , they swore. _The only person I love like that is Herc.  
_

_Is that true?  
_

_Yes!_

The bell dismissed them for the day, and students poured out of the class. Laf blinked slowly, realizing they had zoned out for much of the lesson. Washington wouldn't be pleased if they asked about what the lesson had been about, but they'd rather do that than fail the class.

“Sir,” Laf said, approaching the front desk, bag slung over their shoulder.

Washington looked up. “Lafayette,” he greeted, smiling. “I assume you need an overview of the lecture?”

They flushed, nodding. “Yep. I'm sorry, Sir. I'm just-“

“Sit down, Lafayette,” he said softly, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. “You don't look well.”

They sank down, eyes cast to the floor in shame. “I'm sorry,” they apologized again.

“Look at me.” Washington’s voice was calm and soft, caring. “I'm worried about you, kid.”

They looked up, heart dropping. “Why?”

He folded his hands, eyes very solemn and grave. “I'm going to be entirely truthful with you, alright?” They nodded. “I know.”

“Sir?”

“I know about the bridge, I know what you planned that night but didn't do. I know that it's still in your mind, that it's not quite the past.” His eyes were sad, tired. Laf bit their lip, wanting to deny it all, but knowing they could never get away with it.

“Sir, I…” What could they say? How could they begin to explain to this man that they respected so greatly? “I'm sorry.”

Washington shook his head, a sad smile curving his lips. “Don't. If anything, it should be me apologizing. I promised myself I wouldn't let anything happen to you, and I don't think I've ever failed more in my life.”

They shook their head, feeling tears prick at the back of their eyes. He cared about them, wanted to protect them. “It's not your fault. I chose to do what I did, and not go to anyone for help.” They tried to wipe their eyes discreetly, but knew that the Professor saw.

“I want to help you,” he said softly, voice warm and concerned. “Lafayette, I want to help you.”

They felt a tear fall down their cheek, warm as blood. “You can't help me,” they whispered. “All you could do is throw me in a hospital.”

“I wouldn't do that,” Washington said calmly, but the pain crackling in his voice drove a steak through their chest. “I care about you, Lafayette. I care about all my students, but I've begun to see you as the child I've never had.”

Something inside them broke then, snapped, releasing a flood of all the tears they had held back for years. Suddenly, the air was snatched from their lungs, leaving them bent over, forehead on the table, gasping for breath through sobs. The child I've never had.  
The only thing they'd wanted when they were younger were parents who understood.

“ _I wish_ _you weren't my son_!” their father had screamed, while their mother turned away, hiding her face in shame to having produced such a fucked up child.

“ _I wish you_ _weren't my father_!” Laf had yelled back, trying to hold their ground. “ _I wish you_ _could live one day in my shoes and realize that I'm not hungry for attention! That I'm not just being stupid!”_

Then he'd hit them.

They'd staggered back, reeling in shock. They called for their mother but she had left the room. And then-

Nope. No. Not here. This was all in the past.

He'd shouted, calling them a disgrace. “ _What will you do to me? Our name? How could you do this to us, Gilbert?”_

Of course he had used their actual name, the name they hated, had cast into the fire when they came here. That may have hurt more than the blows, this single word.  
Laf couldn't stop the memories from coming, all consuming and terrible. They pulled at their hair, trying to use the pain to pull them out. They bit their lip until it bled, burning and pulsing. Then they felt arms wrap around them.  
Washington, fatherly and gentle, wrapped his arms around them, letting them relax in an embrace they hadn't known for so long.

“Let it out,” he said softly, feeling a sense of responsibility fill him.  
Laf pulled away, blinking tearful eyes up at him. “I'm sorry,” they whispered miserably. “Just-“

“Don't explain.” He cut them off gently, suddenly feeling very emotion. “Don't apologize.”

They nodded, closing their mouth. “Sir, I…Thank you,” they said softly, and the facade slipped away. 

They were just a child, George realized. Hardly twenty years old, struggling through school and with an uncertain view of the future. Hardly twenty years old and disowned, cut off, and so hurt inside. He wanted to bring them to meet Martha, let her fawn over them like the child they'd never had. 

“You don't need to thank me,” he said kindly, feeling the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, pressing him into the ground. “Come whenever you need. I'll be here.” I've never felt this much responsibility for a student before. They're the child I never had.

Laf smiled, eyes shining through their tears. “I'll remember that, Sir. But why help me? I'm a mediocre student at best.”

George thought for a moment, before shrugging. “I care about you- and all my students. I will always help to the best of my ability. You're excused from the lecture, but your homework is to go home, eat something, and sleep.” He stooped the pick up their backpack. “Take care, kid.”

They smiled even wider, pushing away the hollow look of exhaustion. “I will, sir.” Then they left, head a little higher than before. George sank back down into his chair, putting his head in his hands.

It was a dangerous slope he stood on. One wrong move and he could shatter their trust in him, one wrong move and they could before the next Riley. He couldn't live with that, couldn't wake up knowing that he'd played a role in that.

He was done making mistakes.

///

Laf pushed open the door to the apartment, dropping their backpack by the door. “I'm home!” they called loudly. Herc had gotten home from work an hour ago, insisting that he was well enough to work, despite Laf’s protests.

“I'm in bed!” came the shout back. “Join me.”

With a smile brighter than they'd had in a while, they jogged into their bedroom and immediately crawled under the covers, where Herc lay sideways, facing away from the door. “Hey, mon amour,” they murmured, wrapping their arms around his chest. “You feel okay?”

“I still got a little dizzy, but I'm fine,” Herc replied honestly, rolling over to face them. He felt his heart melt with joy as they saw the bright smile. God, he'd missed that. He kissed their nose. “What're you so happy about?”

They shook their head, still smiling. “I don't know, I'm just…I'm just happy.”

Herc held them even tighter, not wanting any precious moments slip away. “I'm glad,” he murmured. “I'm so glad.” Part of him wanted to cry and clutch them to his chest, but he was content with holding them for now.

Laf burrowed deeper under the covers, sticking their cold feet on the inside of Herc’s thigh. “I don't know how long it'll last, but I'll be alright,” they promised. “I swear it.”

“I love you so much,” Herc whispered, emotion pressing into his chest. “You're the best thing in my life, but I'm going to break up with you if you don't move your goddamn feet.”

They snorted, not removing their feet. “They're cold, my love. Also, way to kill the moment.”

“You can always count on me for that,” he joked, kissing them.

“I know,” they murmured, kissing back softly, smiling. Their entire demeanor had changed, becoming lighter, happier.

Herc almost started to cry. At least for now, they were alright.

They were both alright.

 


	89. Chapter 89

Alex hadn't expected to see John.

It had been two weeks. He'd walked down to the beach, sinking down on a log, lost in thought. It was 9:49pm, and the sun was casting gold and red rays across the sky. The ocean was calm, peaceful. Waves lapped dimly at the shore, lazy and slow, stretching across the sand like a spill of gold and pink.

The sky illuminated the little houses, the tall hills stretching behind them. Up on the hill to his right, behind a thicket of trees, he could make out the outline of that little house. He remembered standing at the window, watching John on the shore, dancing at the waters edge, moving as if he was unable to stop. He remembered the moonlight in his curls, the way his feet left small indentations on the sand, quick and soft. He remembered the way he'd tilt his head back, moonlight hitting his throat in full, dousing him in silver. He remembered approaching him, cautious, worried. He remembered-

The sound of feet hitting the sand pulled him out of his memories. Alex looked up, heart stopping, as John Laurens jogged down the narrow path down from the street, face flushed. He was wearing on a tank top and shorts and Alex felt his heart break seeing how unhealthy he looked. He had the sunken look of someone who had lost a fair but of weight in a very short time. His eyes looked dark and forlorn, sunken into dark circles.

John felt his legs stiffen, frozen under him. He stumbled to a stop, eyes fixed on Hamilton. What was he doing here? How had they run into each other like this? He tried to pull his eyes away from his face, and yet it pulled him back like a magnet every time.

“John-“ Hamilton started, standing.  
John flinched away, heart pounding. “No. No, I can't do this. Not here.”

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered, looking shellshocked. “My god, when was the last time you sleft?”

“Don't act like you care!” he snarled back. The chilly breeze was seeping into his bones. “You never cared.”

Hamilton’s eyes widened in hurt. “I always cared!” He stood, face crumbling into grief.

“Not enough,” John whispered, turning away. He heard Hamilton start to say something and then trail off. “Don't do this.”

“Do what? Worry?” Hamilton's footsteps sounded behind him and, knowing this was unavoidable, John sat down on the sand.

“Say what you need to, then let me leave,” he ordered, running a hand through his dry hair.

“I'm sorry,” Hamilton whispered. “I should have thought of you, I shouldn't have been so self centred. Has…has Mark found out about it yet?”

John sighed. “I don't know. I think so, but it has been dead silent since the Pamphlet. Haven't heard anything.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You should be.”

He hung his head. “I know. I don't want you to give me a second chance. Lord knows I don't deserve one, but just know that I'm so sorry, and if I could do it over again I would, but you really need to take care of yourself.”

“I'm fine, Hamilton!” He shivered, rubbing his arms. “Are we done?”

Hamilton sighed and nodded. “I guess. Just…take care.”

John didn't respond, just pushed himself up, elbows popping as he did so. He swayed for a second, feeling the blood rushing through his body, leaving him lightheaded. “Goodbye, Hamilton.” He started to walk away.

Alex stared after him, heart shattering in his chest. He wanted John to stay, stay to hear his apologies, his pleas. He wanted to fall on his knees and beg for all his forgiveness, to kiss the wounds he'd inflicted until they healed, or to remove the broken flesh from his body and take on the pain of every hurt. “Wait!” he shouted, unsure of what he was doing, of what he was going to say.

John Laurens stopped in his tracks, tensing. Slowly, he turned, eyes confused, face unsure. “What?” he asked, and there was no malice, just confusion.

“I just-“ what could he say? What words would do his actions justice? He was speechless, unable to think, and his brilliant mind was frozen as their eyes met for the first time in a long time- truly met. Alexander Hamilton knew he was smart. IQ tests and grades told him that much, the fact he had written himself to America confirmed it, but now he was dumb. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't talk. He couldn't formulate flowering words, detailed lies and half truths. He was out of these fake truths, he was out of these tales he spun to excuse himself. So maybe- maybe it was finally time to tell the truth.

It was 10:04pm.

“I never wanted to love you,” he breathed, feeling the barricade he'd built up, stacked with things he'd never say. “I never wanted to love you,” he repeated, louder this time, so his voice carried across the ocean, across the wind, and John looked away. “I only wanted to help you. But when we met, it was like something missing finally came home. For months, I’d see you out my window, just a figure in the moonlight, I'd see you dancing and sit and stand on the ocean, I'd see you and I'd wonder if you were real, because it shouldn't be possible for someone so perfect to exist.”

“Stop,” John whispered, voice breaking. He couldn't do this, couldn't take these same words that he'd fallen in love with being spoken again.

“I studied you almost, and I know how odd that sounds, but I saw you every night from where my computer sat by the window. You always came at the same time, always, and so when you didn't come until late one night, I was worried something had happened.” He felt his throat close up and he forced the words out. “I don't know why I was worried, I don't know what drew us together, and I don't know why I chose to come down and see if you were okay. I wish I didn't, but I'm so damn glad I did.”

John wiped his eyes, trying to mask his tears. “Why are you telling me this?”

Alex shook his head, feeling tears choke him. “I've lied for too long. But, John, I liked you even before we met, I had that person in my head who I created out of the dancer I always saw on the beach. It wasn't you, but you were so much more. You opened up to me like some exotic, beautiful, undiscovered flower. You would take my in to your heart and it was a forest of tall trees with light dappling the ground, one million different shades. It was like clockwork, constantly turning, changing, shifting, and so complicated, and I love complicated. I loved trying to unlock you, turn the key, figure out the purpose of your parts, but I never wanted to love you. I never wanted to be depended on and learn to depend, I never wanted to be responsible or anything, and I wouldn't have changed what we had for the world.”

“And you went and ruined it,” John said, frost creeping into his voice. “I never will understand why. Did I get boring, like you said? Was I just too broken for the god I thought you were? Was she really so much better? Could you not have even asked me?”

“What would you have done?” Alex asked, trying to control his temper. “Laugh at me? Refuse?”

“I'd have told you that you could have!” John snapped, and Alex felt shock trickle down his spine. “God, if you'd told me after the first time, if you have been honest, I'd have agreed to allow you to sleep with whoever the fuck you want as long as Eliza agreed too! I knew we'd never have sex, I wouldn't have wanted to deprive you of that so long as I knew you loved me!”

“And I'm so fucking sorry!” Alex exclaimed, remorse stinging his eyes. “Everyday I wish I'd said no, I wish I had told you! Every single day I wonder where we'd be if I hadn't done this.”

John took a shuddering breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Every morning I wake up and wonder if I wasn't enough, that maybe you wouldn't have done this if I was better, if I wasn't broken, if I was ripped at the seams, if maybe I'd pushed aside being asexual and just done it and maybe you'd be satisfied enough to stay loyal. Every night I go to sleep and wonder if I'll die in my sleep and I think about how much I wouldn't mind. Every afternoon, I feel like I'm drowning so I just fucking run. It doesn't matter if I've eaten or not. Every dusk, Angelica will sit down next to me in the backyard and put her arm around my shoulders and today she did that and stiffened because she could feel my ribs.”

“Why do you do this?” Alex asked, feeling his heart clench.

John laughed, a hard sound. “My stomach is churning with too many things to name. I can't stomach anything anymore. I hate it!”

Alex wanted to cry, wanted to hug John, just like how it used to be. He wanted to make food and curl up together and watch a movie and fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms. “Then why do you do it?” he asked, feeling steers pressing harder against his eyes.

John closed his eyes, shoulders starting to shake as he tried and failed to discreetly mask tears. “I can't stop. It's the only control I have in my life, and even if it wasn't, I'm just never hungry anymore. I…I want to stop.” He cleared his throat, raising a thin hard to wipe his face. “Never mind that. You've said what you needed to say.”

Don't leave. “I have,” Alex agreed, clearing his throat. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

“You should be,” John replied, pushing his hair out of his face.

The indigo left in the sky reflected on his face, hollowing his cheekbones, carving lines into his face. He looked old suddenly, as if his pain had aged him perhaps ten or fifteen years. He was no longer that dancer Alex had loved. Suddenly, he was a veteran, a soldier. He looked hardened in the darkness, exhausted and stony. It wouldn't have been hard to imagine him with a gun in his hand, leading a battalion.

It was 10:20 at night when John Laurens walked away.

That was the last time Alex saw him for nearly three months.

 


	90. Chapter 90

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically all the trigger warnings, if you're sensitive to:  
> -Sexual abuse  
> -Sex trafficking  
> -Abuse  
> Please be careful

Three months passed.

Three long months drifting by, making it a grand total of four months, a week and a half since the release of the Lewis Pamphlet.

School had let out for the summer, releasing students into three months of freedom, partying, homework, and sweltering heat. How lovely it might be to be one of those students, Maria thought to herself. How lovely it might be to only worry about school and bikini bodies, not when the next time you'd eat would be, or if your next customer would hurt you.

She'd returned to her room two months ago, free from the basement, free from the chains, but she wasn't allowed food. He provided her with enough to stay alive, enough to keep her energy up and her skin soft and youthful.

Her clients began coming again, to lay with her and then leave. She started to remember their names, forcing herself to repeat them two hundred times while she lay awake at night, starving.

Jensen Samuel.  
Murphy Leslie  
Connor Briggs.  
And so many more.

She was so fucking tired of this, so beaten down that she couldn't feel anymore. Her heart was frozen, coated in ice. She was freezing, the clockwork inside of her coming to a stop, rusting when she let herself melt, even a little bit. So she'd stay strong and emotionless as the days turned to weeks.

It was a Thursday at 8:57am when Reynolds came and knocked on her door. He sat down next to her as she did her hair, and handed her a piece of toast and oranges. Gratefully, she put the brush down and took a bite, almost moaning as the hunger in her stomach was calmed.

“I have something I need to tell you, Doll,” Reynolds said, watching her face change from delight at having been given food to worry. “Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Elizabeth Schuyler, however…”

And suddenly, energy coursed like fire through her body and she stood, knocking the plate to the floor. Energy like she hadn't had in months filled her. “Don't touch her!” she snapped. “Don't you fucking touch her!”

“Easy,” James said calmly. “I won't touch her. You will.”  
Maria sat back down, feeling lightheaded and confused.

“What?”

He studied his hands, assuming an offhand air. “Oh, I want you to hurt her. I want you to make her hate you.”

Maria didn't know what to do, so she laughed. “She already hates me. What more can I do?”

Reynolds smiled, devious and dark. “I want you to go and make amends with her, I want you to drug her drink and bring her to me.”

“Never,” she swore, fury and fear pounding in her ears. She didn't want to think why he needed this, why he wanted Eliza here. “I'll never bring her to you!”

Suddenly, he was in her face, greedy breath hot on her cheek. “Then I'll take her,” he snarled. “Maria, if you had been submissive when I asked, we wouldn't be in this situation. I need to control my workers, and the only way to do that is to threaten someone you love.”

“I'd rather die than let you hurt her,” Maria snarled. “Don't you dare lay a finger on her.”

His smile stretched wider, darker and more insane. “I’ll lay so much more than a finger on her, don't worry. Unless, you do what you need to and bring her.” With that, he stood and walked out of the room, stepping on the toast that had fallen on the floor.

Maria’s mind whirled in a hurricane and thoughts. He would hurt Eliza if she didn't, he was going to hurt Eliza, the one person she ever loved quite like that. He was going to hurt Eliza. Or she was going to have to. Oh god, not Eliza, anyone but her. Maria was drowning, stuck in the hurricane that was her mind, the madness surrounding her, tear out flesh from her bones, replacing every thought in her head with one.

He'd have no reason to hurt her if Maria was out of his reach, and the only way she'd truly be out of his web was if she was dead.

If she was dead, he wouldn't try and control her using Eliza.

If she was dead, he couldn't hurt her for telling the police about his workers.

If she was dead, she wouldn't have to live with the pain of what she'd done.

It had seemed like a perfect plan, a perfect, horrible, fucked up plan.

Of course, she didn't really want to die, didn't really like the idea, but the pros for once outweighed the cons. 

She'd get out, she'd save Eliza, she'd expose Reynolds and his business, saving his workers in the process. She could finally sleep, drift into an eternity of comfort and oblivion. Even if, by some miracle, she got to the police and could do this safely, she'd be facing years of therapy and PTSD from what had happened to her. Maybe…Maybe it wasn't such a bad choice.

But she'd never see Eliza flourish in her life, her career, never see Peggy graduate college, or Angelica get married. She'd never have a chance of making amends with everyone she'd hurt, never have a chance at life.

_But Eliza will be okay. Isn't that what you wanted?  
_

_Yes.  
_

_Oh God, yes._

Maria sank to the floor, picking up the half orange and the toast that hadn't been stepped on and slowly began to eat them, but they tasted bland and dry, like sand. With the knowledge of what she might have to do, she didn't know how she could stomach the food. But she needed the strength, she reminded herself.  
_You need to be able to fight him, to have the nerve to bring down this kingdom._

She sighed, sitting back. Her tail bones hurt was it pressed into the wooded floor, a reminder of how much she needed food. She stood up, having finished the edible remains of her food, and walked over to her window.

The neighborhood looked normal, simple. Neat little houses lined up in a row, lawns cut and crisp in the summer heat. It was nice, calm. No one would ever imagine the horrors going on inside the Reynolds house. No one would ever see her, gazing through the window, gaunt and exhausted. It was a good neighborhood. Things like this didn't happen. If only those people in those perfectly painted houses, mowing perfectly trimmed grass could see beyond their perfectly normal bubbles into the windows of the Reynolds house. If only they could see Maria, awake throughout the night, lying on her side with a man she didn't know the name of lesser against her side. If only they could see her as her stomach growled late at night and she began to bite her nails to nubs, anything to stop the hunger. If only they weren't so blind.

10:38pm and her first costumer of the day came. They'd started coming later, as to avoid suspicious. This one, she almost recognized, with elegant cheekbones and a regal nose, accent lilting in and out of perfect words. He looked like royalty, commanded it, and when The King of Cons nearly bowed to him, Maria felt her blood freeze in her veins.

“George Fredrick,” he introduced, kissing her hand. His were soft, untouched by civilian work, by rough surface.

“Maria…Reynolds,” she replied. He terrified her, every aspect of his being was strong and respectable, and yet he was kind, soft hands, smooth words. Maybe he wouldn't be so bad after all.

It was 10:43pm when she lead him to the bedroom, making her aura alluring- but not too alluring. It was simple now, after years of practice, to draw men in. She lowered his lids, hooding her dark eyes, letting a sense of mystique surround her. And when those soft hands touched her, pushing her shirt off thin shoulders, he almost hesitated.

“They told me you had curves to die for,” he murmured, leaning towards her. “I suppose they were mistaken. Perhaps I shall take my leave.”

No. She couldn't let a customer go like this, not one like this. Reynolds might go after Eliza faster if he was mad at her. Maria forced a soft sigh and a gentle smile. “That doesn't mean I have lost my talents,” she breathed.

His hands traced her stomach, stilling for just a moment. “What happened to you?”

“It's a very long story,” she murmured, trying to stop the conversation in it’s tracks. He couldn't ever know. She nudged his leg with her hand, tracing it up his thigh. “I can promise that I'm just as good as I was before.”

“You'd better be.” And he kissed her, violent, rough. 

The soft hands were suddenly hammers, knives, cutting into her flesh until she though she must be bleeding, ripping through her body and dismembering her. Any sense of gentleness was gone, vanished. She would have cried out from shock, but his lips and tongue blocked her voice, and she scrambled to meet every movement, please him. She had to please him. _Had to_.

When his hands started invading her, pressing cold fingers to his legs and chest, she sat back, spread her legs, let him have everything he wanted. When he hurt her, she bit her tongue until it bled so she wouldn't scream. When he started cussing at her, using the words Reynolds would use, the kids at university used after the Pamphlet, she felt her chest tighten, contracting and restricting, and when he was finally done, panting on top of her, she widened her eyes, making herself look younger and vulnerable, pure, giving him something to remember her by.

She was broken in the end. The words, the physical pain had shattered her even more. The way his hands, so soft, like a girls, had become rough and greedy, like Reynolds, the way he'd been desperate and derogatory. When he kissed her, when he touched her, his entire being reeked of desperation, of need and dominance, but nothing sexual towards her, as if she was a placebo for what he really wanted.

Now, it was 12:36am, and she was lying in the bed. George Fredrick had left after he had finished, leaving her sore and filthy, body exhausted and painful. The condom was still lying on the bed next to her, as if not using one would make a difference. She'd stopped getting her period two months ago and she couldn't care less about any STI’s. She wouldn't live long enough for them to take their toll.

Here, amidst white stained sheets in a dark room, Maria cried, overwhelmed with pain and exhaustion. What she would give to just be able to die, to have eternal sleep, to get out of the business she was in. It would be so easy, so final, permanent. She sighed, hiccuping between sobs.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, shoulder shaking. “I'm so fucking sorry. God, I'm so sorry.” Who was she apologizing to? Did it matter? “I should just be dead.”

And that night, at 12:43am, as the dark, moonless sky threw a cloak over everything, painting it all black, Maria Lewis shattered.  
Her bird body, hollow bones and all, splintered all over the floor, leaving dust and ashes behind, a last memorial of her existence.

She was lifted from white sheets and dropped one hundred stories into concrete, scattering her body around the floor. The tears stained her pillows, soaking into the sheets, and she forced her trembling voice to form the words once again, as if there was a number of times she could repeat that that would erase all that she'd done. 

“I'm so fucking sorry.”

And there was blood on the sheets, from cuts he'd left on her already bruised skin, blood that she wished there was more of, just so she could maybe die. Not enough. And when she touched her chest, the nail marks on it, the blood from teeth at her neck, from nails on her thighs, she wished to everything that she could maybe die. Just maybe.

Maria curled into herself, shaking and sobbing so violently that her thought the frail skin holding her bones together would snap and she'd spill all over the floor, scattered like a dropped vase or a glass doll. 

Reynolds slowly opened the door, mouth turned up into a snake smile, teeth white in the artificial light shining through cracks in her curtains. “You've got another coming in an hour.”

Maria sat up, eyes blank and dead. Her tears stopped, as if by command, and she stood, not bothering to cover her body. There was nothing he could do to hurt her anymore, to pierce the numbness growing over her body.

“I'll get ready,” she said emptily, emotionless as the clock chimed 1am.

Maria Lewis had broken.

 


	91. Chapter 91

Eliza sat on her bed, shifting through old photos. It was early, maybe 5:30am, and the sun was beginning to rise, casting gold and red arms across a violet sky. Peaceful. These photos were peaceful too, taken in love and happy.

Angelica had taken this one, of Eliza sitting with her knees up, facing away out a window, and Maria with her sketch pad, pencil loose in her hand, gazing lovingly at Eliza, drawing abandoned.

This was a selfie. They'd gone to the fair just after they'd gotten together, a first date almost. Here, Maria had cotton candy stuck to her nose, hair loose and messy from rollercoasters, she was laughing, and Eliza was kissing her cheek, smiling against her skin. 

And this one- 

Someone knocked on the door.  
Eliza set the phone down and stood, quietly opening the door to see John standing there with an almost sheepish smile. “Hey,” he whispered. She gestured him in. 

“Hi,” Eliza said. “Why are you awake?”

“Couldn't sleep, I figured you couldn't either.” He swayed on his feet for a moment, closing his eyes. Eliza took his arm and lead him to the bed.

“Stay here,” she ordered gently, and left, leaving him with his head in his hands, waiting.

At 5:40, she returned with a piece of toast, strawberries, a little square of chocolate, and green tea. “Eat,” she ordered, setting the plate down. John looked away from it, biting his lip.

“Not hungry,” he said.

“Eat.”

He shook his head. “It's too early.”

“Laurens, if you don't eat at least half of everything on this plate, I will get Peggy and Angelica,” Eliza threatened. She didn't like how little he was still eating. Sure, he'd gained back some of the weight he'd lost after Angelica sat on him until he promised he would do more than three mile runs once a day and eat at least one full meal and one half meal, but she was still scared. 

John smiled tightly and picked up the toast. “I hate you,” he told her, smiling slightly.

“I know.” She sat down beside him, breaking off a piece of the chocolate she got for herself. “Why were you up? Don't bullshit me.” He stiffened and set the toast aside, smile sliding off his face. He looked like he might be sick. Eliza felt fear build in her chest, suffocating. “What is it?”

“Hamilton’s sick.” The words were a whisper, tiny and heavy.

Eliza let out a deep breath, thinking of what she could possibly say. “How bad?”

John shook his head. “It's just a fever.”

“Then why are you so worried?” she asked. _Is this the truth?_

Suddenly, he doubled over, head in hands, face crumpling like a sketchbook page. “I miss him,” he admitted, and the dam broke, floodgates wide open. Every hidden thing inside him was spilling out, covering every inch of the room. “I heard he was sick from Laf- blacked out at the library- and all I could think about was maybe…what if it was bad and he…what if he died and he died thinking I hated him? How could I live with myself? How could I loose someone else? I can't survive that! And if…if it was bad, if he'd been driving and-“

“Do you?” Eliza asked softly, rubbing his back. “Hate him, I mean?” Without a doubt, she knew what the answer was.

John didn't move for a moment, rationalizing the thoughts churning in his head, trying to make sense of his emotions. “No.” He wasn't sure if she heard the croak, the half there whisper. He didn't know if it had been loud enough, strong enough, sincere enough. What was enough? “No.”

Eliza hummed in understanding. “Oh, John.” The sincerity in her voice was almost painfully sweet, honest.

“No,” John said, louder this time. “No. I don't hate him. I wish I could, but whenever I try I just remember how we met, how kind he was. I remember him inviting me into his home, opening his doors to the boy on the beach who'd he'd never met before. I remember getting to know who he was, and he was everything I'd ever wanted. Charismatic, real, kind. He wasn't a fairy tale knight, but he was better. He was perfect for me, perfect in every way. He was real, and I already knew it, from the moment I realized what he meant to me, that he was the only one I'd ever love as truly and deeply as I did.”

“John-“

“I always knew I wasn't enough to entertain him, that me and my life and my boring problems wouldn't be enough, that someday he'd solve the puzzle that was me and walk away, but I didn't think it would be so soon!” His voice cracked. “I always got the sense that I was, in a way, his captor. I tamed the dragon, kept him in a cage, and he loved me because I fed him and loved him, but our love was artificial, temporary. He was so accomplished, writing himself to America without a dollar to his name, straight A’s, national writing competitions, one of the youngest captains of the debate team in the school history, just getting into this school in general! I knew I wasn't enough, that he was breaking out of his cage. I tried to convince myself that I was enough, and I knew I wasn't. I knew something was wrong before the Pamphlet, before Hell broke loose, and I wish I could hate him, Eliza, I wish I could just despise him!” His voice rose in pitch and noise, before he dropped his head and letting out a shuddering breath. “I wish I could hate him. But I can't. I loved him then, and I love him now. I can't help it.”

Eliza didn't say anything, because what could she say? How could she justify this pain? Of course, she felt the same way about Maria, but the two broken hearts weren't similar enough to be compared. Her pain was lesser, because she had her sisters, because Maria wasn't in danger.

So she simply wrapped his arms around his skinny shoulders and let him cry.

What else could she do?

///

Hercules Mulligan couldn't sleep.  
He'd woken up an hour ago and since had lay in bed wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Laf was lying next to him, pressed against his side, fast asleep. Once and a while, they'd shiver and kick a little, and Herc knew that they were dreaming about France, about the unspoken past. They whimpered slightly and he pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead, rubbing their arm.

After ten more minutes, he sat up, careful not to disturb them, and slowly walked out into the living room, where he was surprised to see Samuel Seabury curled on the couch, staring st his phone. Herc noticed that he didn't have his binder on and looked everywhere but at that fact.

“Sam,” he said quietly, sitting down next to him. “What's up?”

Sam jolted, covering his chest with the pillow. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn't think you were awake. I just…couldn't sleep.”

“It's fine, it's fine. This is your house too, man, and we never see you around anyways.”

“I don't like to intrude,” he said quietly. “I'm usually out at the library.”

Herc nodded slowly. “Is something wrong?” He knew there was something bothering him. “Is it the T?”

Sam had started Testosterone about a month ago, after being bumped down on the waiting list. He'd been so overjoyed when he'd first gotten it that he'd started crying, unable to speak beyond frantic “thank you”s. Already, there were changes being made. He voice cracked a little more, and (much to Sam's annoyance) he was beginning to break out easier. Either way, Herc had never seen him so happy within the months he'd lived with them.

Sam sighed, smiling over at Herc. “I don't know. I'm so happy to finally be on it, I really, really am, but I know that you guys are having a little bit of a financial crisis and my hormones are so damn expensive. I don't want you two to have to pay for them.”

“Sam, no offense, man, but you're basically broke. Those bastards you lived with before took your money,” Herc pointed out, raising an eyebrow. “Laf would never let you just stop, believe me. They care about you because you're the closest they know to someone like them. They won't let you stop or pay for your own. Besides,” he smiled, “your cooking is incredible, that makes up for it.”

Sam laughed softly. “Thanks, dude. Yeah…it's not just that.”

“Go ahead and rant,” he invited, leaning back on the couch and looking over at him.

Sam hesitated. “Don't judge me on this,” he said. “No one in the entire world knows.”

“Got it.”

He let out a deep breath. “There's someone who I've been in love with for a very long time. I’m talking maybe five or so years now. He doesn't know that in trans, thought I was just a feminine guy. Anyways, he's an absolute dick, a horrible person, and yet I can't help but know him as he once was, kind, sweet, gentle. I love him and I know he'd hate me if he knew I was bi, if he knew I was trans. He hates me anyways now, but for a different reason. We avoid each other, let it go, but we don't talk. I saw him earlier today, at the beach. God, Hercules, I don't want to love him.” The pain was so raw on his face that Herc felt a breath a pity. “I don't want to but I can't help it.”

“It's okay, Sam,” he comforted gently. “You don't have to tell me who it is, but I'll try and help you in some way.”

Sam sniffed, looking up at the ceiling. “You'd hate me if I told you who he was.”

Herc put a hand on his shoulder, smiling. “We can't help who we love, Sam. We can't cut off emotions in the blink of an eye. If we could, why would I have suffered in agony nearly six years, waiting for Laf? Why would John still love Alex after all he's done? Love is weird and, frankly, inconvenient at most times.”

Sam closed his eyes, shaking his head. “No. The man- boy- I love…He's terrible, rotten through and through, and I don't want to love him. Everyone hates him, but I knew him before he changed. I love him, but I know that he's wrong, that what he does is awful, and I won't tolerate it, won't stand by and watch him hurt anyone else. So I worked against him, didn't do as he asked, and-“

“-and It’s George King, isn't it?” Herc interrupted, eyes soft and dark.

Sam paused, debating whether or not to confirm what he had said. He had to be honest. “Yes, oh God, yes.” Suddenly, tears started choking him as the weight of this secret lifted off his shoulders. Finally, it was out in the open. Finally, he wasn't holding this all in, killing himself. For the first time in a long, long time, he could float, felt lighter than air. 

Herc rubbed his back, saying things he couldn't hear over the rush of wind in the abyss of freedom he was falling into, a freedom he hadn't known because this was just so foreign and amazing that it was impossible to process. He was free from his secrets, he was free from the chains and bonds tying his mouth shut and bind his hands until they turned blue.

He was free.

He wasn't alone in this struggle anymore, he wasn't guarding this everyday now. He could talk about it, work through it and Herc would help him.

He was free.

 


	92. Chapter 92

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you are triggered by or sensitive suicidal intentions, thought, idealizations, or abuse please be careful of this chapter

There are moments that the words don't reach, when the world was so dark that nothing could light it up. When the dark came through the fragile wall of hope she'd built herself, shattering it like a glass dome.

There had come a moment where death would be a blessing, an answered prayer to God.

And it would be answered.

Maria couldn't move. Her body ached so much, trembled with the force of even breathing. She was lying in bed, on her side. Her red dress had been torn into shreds, hardly covering her at all, but she didn't care. Clothes were the least of her pain. The blood between her legs wasn't a problem, nor the way her physical pain seems to reach all the way up her chest into her heart. No, the worst came from words. Words she never had wanted to hear.

“I'm going out tonight,” James at told her as his friends left the room, still shrugging on shirts and slipping on pants. “You didn't behave, Doll. You know what I’m going to do?” She'd barely shaken her head. Every breath was painful. “I'm going to hutter your Eliza.”

And reality froze.

She'd behaved, bended and twisted with each blow that hit her, but she'd complied. She'd complied! Nothing had gone wrong, no one told her she hadn't done well, no one had criticized her full lips and gentle hands, or the way she never argued, never said no. How could this happen?

He'd held her and detailed his plans, his options, each one more horrifying than the last. “I could take her, use her a little. She's a beautiful girl, and she does have the potential to dethrone even you, my Crown.” His hands were soft on her cheeks, sending horrified chills down her spine. “I could just kill her, throw her into a ditch somewhere. Over time, that pretty pale skin would peel off and she'd be unrecognizable, but that would be a waste, and even I'm not that horrible. No, it would be an accident."

“No,” Maria had whispered. “No! You can do whatever you want to me, but, God, please don't hurt her!”

"When I'm done with tonight," he murmured, "then she'll die."

Eliza couldn't die! The very thought was unimaginable, her worst nightmare. Every instinct screamed at her to call the police, but she had no phone, and Reynolds always had his on him. She could walk to the police, and go through question after question and get Reynolds arrested, but always know that one of his men would be looking for her for the rest of her life, and she didn't want to go on like that- couldn't go on like that.

In her half mad mind, there was one option that seemed to stick out, perfect and clear, and she tried every way possibly to push it aside, to rationalize her position and what she had to do. There was no other way.

Of course, there probably was, but she just couldn't see it through the darkness surrounding her mind, swallowing her. This would be easy and surefire. They wouldn't be able to question her but her words would be just as compelling, and tonight was the only night. If not now, it might be too late.

Maria forced her shaking legs up, heaving in a deep breath as she turned down the hallway and slowly opened the door to the guest bedroom. It was empty, hadn't been used in a while, but there was a mirror. She hesitated, before closing the door and pushing her hair out of her face. She didn't think she could bear to see what she looked like. But- she knew that room was the drug room, packed with weed and pills.

She opened the door again and closed her eyes as she passed the mirror, opening the bathroom cabinet and taking out a few items to stuff in a little pouch. It should be enough, she thought, clutching the pouch. _What else do I need?_

She went quietly back to the room, looking around despite the house being empty, and picked up her sketchbook and a pencil. She flipped through it quickly, smiling sadly at Eliza's face- splashed on every page. God, she missed her. “I'm doing this for you,” she murmured, pressing shaking hands to one of the portraits.

The idea of dying had never fazed her when she'd thought about it being by her own hands, in her control. She'd thought of it a lot, of the power she had to literally end her own life, but she'd never really thought she'd do it a reality.

She'd fantasized about the blackness that would come after the gunshot, or the pills, or whatever else, but never imaged about grisly acting on it. The knowledge that that was just what she needed to do was horrifying and oddly comforting.  
She'd hadn't quite processed everything that was going to happen, what she was going to do, how she'd do it, or where. She had what she needed, but no location, and no money. She didn't even know how long Reynolds would be out, be it all night or only ten more minutes. She didn't know if she had the strength to run, to hide, or if she'd be stopped and taken to the station.

She didn't know if it would even work, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Once she was dead, Reynolds would have no reason to hurt anyone she loved, because the dead couldn't have a debt to pay, a bait to dance for.

Even if she failed to expose him, her friends would be okay, and nothing mattered more than that.

This was her redemption.

It was getting late, 12:09am, and she had been pacing, unsure of what to do, if she should change her clothes, and die in something beautiful, or keep the memory and proof of her pain on. She put that aside, remembering that her clothes were locked up in the attic, and turned her attention to something else.

The fridge was kept locked, and she'd never been able to pick it or break it because that would be too obvious but, seeing as she'd be dead by morning, it didn't really matter. Maria cracked the leg of a chair over the island in the centre of the kitchen and it spluttered off with a crack.

Smiling, she raised the leg and bashed the lock once, twice, fifty three times exactly before the chain broke and she was able to pull the door open.

“Oh god,” she murmured, pulling out bags of vegetables, boxes of takeout, pints of ice cream. This was it, her last meal.

Her last meal.

She was going to kill herself.

Maria had known, planned it. She had what she needed in her hands, but it hadn't sunken in. She would die. Her heart would stop, and her existence would stop, right? That's how death worked, right? It was biggest unsolved mystery of human existence and she standing there, surrounded by food, realizing that she was about to submerge herself in the unknown, the unthinkable. 

Suddenly, she wasn't very hungry anymore.

Her mouth tasted like blood as she slowly finsisted off a roll of bread and some ham, trying to savor the taste because she couldn't stomach more than that and she knew she needed it, needed the energy to get far enough away this hell and out somewhere where she wouldn't be found until hopefully morning.

12:50 came around too soon, and she'd been dissociating, staring or at nothingness, using her last hours to try and get away from her body and exist in nothingness. That's when she heard the garage door open.

Maria froze, pulled back into reality. The fridge was half open still, and her bag was on the table, along side her sketchbooks and pencil. She leapt for them, looking for a way out that wasn't the door Reynolds and his friends were coming in through. The window, she realized, was half open, and not a long fall- seven feet maybe. She ran to it and hefted herself through the opening, arms shaking.

“Maria!” Reynolds screamed, furious and red in the face, taking in the scene and Maria perched on the edge of the window sill. “Get back in here.” His voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “God help me, get back in here. Maria Reynolds, come back or else face the consequences.”

Maria felt a strange pulling, as if the obedience that had been hammered into her was screaming to follow his rules, his orders to avoid punishment. “It's Maria Lewis,” she hissed back.

And jumped.

For a second, she was flying, hollow bones light enough to let the breeze lower her, and then her feet crashed into the ground and she stumbled forward, maintaining her balance and running as fast as she possibly could. There was one place she needed to go, her last hope, before she did what had to be done.

One million worlds apart, Eliza sat by the fireplace, gazing into the flames. Angelica approached her, holding a cup of tea and oatmeal with chocolate. “Hey, ‘Liza,” she said quietly, sitting down next to her. “Its late, and you haven't eaten.”

Eliza smiled and took the bowl. “Thanks. Why are you up?”

“You know I don't sleep until you and Pegs are both in bed.” Angelica put an arm around Eliza's shoulders. “You alright?”

“I'm alright,” Eliza told her, leaning her head against her shoulder. “You don't have to do this.”

Angelica sighed, knowing exactly what she meant. “Of course I do. You're my little sister, and I'm responsible for you and Peggy. I know I can't help you as much as I want to- only John can really do that, but I can try.”

Eliza smiled, eyes full of affection. “You're the best sister anyone could ask for, Angel. I'm going to go and eat this in bed. Get some rest.”

“You can't tell me what to do,” Angelica laughed, standing and offering a hand to her sister. “I'm in charge here.”

Eliza turned away, laughing for the first time in a long time. "Of course you are."

Neither of them noticed Maria, standing outside the window, shadowed by trees. Her face was pale and there were tears dripping down her cheeks. She couldn't do this, couldn't barge back into the sisters lives again.

There was no hope for her.

Never taking her eyes off the two, she backed away, out of the yard until trees blocked her vision. Then, clutching her bags and sketchbook to her chest, she bolted into the night.

It was the beginning of her end.

 


	93. Chapter 93

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive TW  
> If you're at all triggered or sensitive to graphic imagery or anything related to suicide please be wary

Through tears in her eyes and burning in her lungs, Maria noticed the colors first. She collapsed in the field, letting herself drop against soft green and yellow grass, the contours of their edges sharpened to knifepoint by the shadows. The world was pressing down on her, as if the very universe had chosen to submerge itself in her chest. She felt her ribs splinter under the weight.

The sky above her was dark and sparkling with one million stars. The indigo seeped from the sky into shadows, cast long and thin lines across the surface of the Earth, blooming from the bases of trees. Floating around her, flashing messages in a code nobody understood were fireflies.

She loved fireflies.

Maybe they'd be the last thing she'd see before she died, she thought, running her finger over the razor in her bag. The metal bit into the flesh. It wouldn't be long now. Would Reynolds keep looking for her? Would anyone find her out here? She had no connections outside of this hell business. She'd die here, draped in her own blood. How fitting it would be, to die covered in red.

When she'd first met Reynolds, the color of her scarf had been red, when they'd gone out on their first date, she'd worn a red dress. When he told her what he needed her to do to help him, she'd worn red, and when she'd first met Eliza so long ago, the bruise on her cheek was discolored a red purple. When she and Alex had had sex for the first time, she saw the color surrounding them. Now, she'd die cradled in it.

It was a beginning and an end.  
It was who she was- all she was.  
Maria had never been anything other than beautiful and a whore. Before Reynolds, she'd sleep around wherever and whenever and with whoever she fancied. She wasn't afraid to show her body because she knew it was beautiful. Her grades had never been fantastic, maintaining B’s and the occasional A or C. Her life was a mess and she'd never get anywhere as an artist, she'd only picked the major because she assumed she'd off herself of be offer before then, and she'd love to die doing something she had passion about.

Then Eliza had come along in a burst of pure blue, and filled her world with light and colors. She'd been happy and alive for the first time in years, she'd had a family. People cared about her and she embraced every second of it. She'd slept next to someone who loved her, ate with a family who loved her through panic attacks and nightmares, through all her pain and horrors.

She didn't have that anymore.  
Suddenly all she was left with were these broken parts, dented clockwork and a time bomb. She'd taken the only things she'd had and walked away. Nobody told her to be safe, nobody saw her out, nobody wished her goodbye. Nobody told her how to dispose of the bomb, and she carried it as it ticked and ticked away. Now, lying in a field in the dead of night with only a bottle of pills and a razor and her sketchbook in her bag and the torn scraps of fabric on her back, the bomb was about to go off.

Carefully, she took the blade from her bag, breath catching as the moonlight hit it. It was so thin and small, looking almost like glass, and yet this had the power to end her life. She looked up at the sliver of a moon, hidden almost completely by clouds. She could smell the ocean on the breeze, felt the mist wrapping around her, clothing her.

Suddenly, it all came crashing down and she found herself sobbing, clutching at the grass with white fists, drowning in dry land.

Tears choked her until she couldn't breathe, her entire body shaking so violently that she thought it might crumble, and where her barbed wire spine broke her skin, the universe leaked out. A garden on galaxies surrounded her, each a person she'd leave behind. They spun around her, almost taunting, almost pleading. She covered her mouth with one hand and reached for them with the other but her fingers passed through each one as if it was an illusion created by the mist.

This was all an illusion.

There was nothing her mind could fabricate to soften this, no visual or poem, no metaphors or tender words. She was going to die and it was no ones fault but her own. She'd made the choice to not say no, to continue the affair, to ruin their lives. She'd consciously acted on her urges that Eliza couldn't fulfill. She'd torn it all apart and now it burned.

She was the villain of this story, too young and stupid and blind to see the damage her affair would cause. She was the villain who nobody would mourn, and when she fell, nobody would weep, would remember her as she lived. Herc and Laf, John and Alex, the Schuyler’s all hated her, and she knew that would be how she'd remain in their memories, as the hated slut who ruined everything. She wasn't a person anymore, but a problem in human skin.

It was what she was and her fate was what she deserved.

Maria sat up and wiped her eyes, taking a dee breath to control her sobs. If she wanted, she could walk back to Reynold’s house and face his wrath, or to a police station. What she had to do was just one of many choices, but the grass had curled around her ankles, hardening into chains. She didn't deserve help, didn't deserve a future, and, quite frankly, didn't want one. It was difficult to explain, but the end was in sight and she lusted for it, for a final destination, an end.

She slowly picked up her sketchbook, flipping to a blank page. Eliza's face was plastered on nearly every page in the book, a result of being pent up with only heart break and pencils. She ignored the drawings and slipped the pencil out from the coiled spine. In shaky letters, she wrote three words in big letters at the top of the page.

_THE REYNOLDS PAMPHLET_

The irony seeped into her skin.

 _To whom it may concern,_  
Depending on who you ask, my name is Maria Lewis or Maria Reynolds. I'd first like to start off with I'm sorry that you found me. There was no other way, and I hope I haven’t traumatized you or anything like that.  


_There's a man named James Reynolds who has been on a police watch list several times. They know the address. I was one of many girls who have been swept into his web of connections, where girls like myself were sold out against their will for sex and other sexual pleasures. He would buy me things, let me have clothes and makeup and all that good stuff as long as I spread my legs for whoever payed. If not, I'd be beaten, starved, or loose my privilege of freedom. Many girls got worse than I ever did, but I was his Crown, his Throne. My body, at the tender age of 21, made him King of this network.  
_

_There's a girl named Abigail Adams who lived with a Martha Wayles downtown above the Jade Shop, both of whom are in similar situations. Please get them both out and investigate. Tell them what happened to me and please investigate further. This is a huge trafficking network who's roots spread deeper than even I could imagine in all my years of being tangled in it. Here's my story;  
_

_When I was 15, I met Reynolds. We started dating when I was 16, and it was all fine until I realized he was actually 21 when he said he was 18. At first, it was caring relationship -I put off college for him- and I was happy, then he'd go out late and disappear for days. One night, I found him bleeding and bruised in an alley and he told me he needed money and I could get some for him. Lovestruck and drunk, I agreed without knowing what would happen. I wasn't even 20.  
_

_I was young and beautiful and I'm not ashamed to say that I was good at what I needed to do. Word spread about “the King’s new girl” and his popularity skyrocketed. He was famous in this community and I was earning far more than he needed, but he wanted more and more. He was bathing and basking in praise and customers who all wanted to taste my blood. He became King, and I became his Crown.  
_

_Thank you for reading this, please give it to the police. Have it published in an article, find and arrest Reynolds and his band. Something bad runs under this city and I trust the police to attempt to find out how to fix it. Please help the people -like myself- who you find. I'm sorry you found me, I'm sorry for making you do this, but the world needs to know.  
_

_-Maria Lewis_

She sighed deeply, tearing the page from the book and setting it beneath a small stone. Maybe it would make news, maybe it would never be found, along with her body. Maybe it would be found by a member of the network and destroyed, but if there was even the smallest chance that it could save someone, she was going to utilize that chance.

With a sad finality, she picked up the pencil again.  
  
_Dear Herc and Laf,  
_

_How do I begin to thank you both? Herc, you were always there in my darkest moments, and you knew how to help me through them. Thank you for adopting me into your family, for making sure I was always comfortable, and when the weight of my past was too much, thank you for helping me carry the burden. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me.  
_

_Laf, you always made me laugh, made me smile in my darkest days. Thank you for helping me get through them, for teaching me how to trust, to laugh, to do makeup. Thank you for believing that I was worthy, worth something more than my scars and my story.  
_

_To both of you; I'm so sorry. I love you.  
_

_-Maria_

_John Laurens,  
_

_Dear God, I don't have words._  
I'm sorry for ruining your life, I'm sorry for having the affair, I'm sorry for being such a shitty person. I'm so, so sorry. I just need to ask you one favor- give Alex one more chance. It doesn't have to be for a relationship, but please, at least talk to him. He's going to blame himself and I don't want him to. Soften the blow.  


_Take care of yourself. Make sure you eat enough and sleep enough. Take care of Eliza where Angelica fails because she can't understand this pain, but you can. You don't have to forgive me, or like me at all, just make sure you and Eliza are okay.  
_

_Thank you for everything you've done, for the art lessons, for being so open to me. Thank you, and I'm sorry.  
_

_-Maria Lewis_

It felt incomplete; Maria was filled with everything she wanted to tell him, but she didn't have the words. There weren't enough times she could apologize, explain how awful she felt, how happy she was to have known him despite what came of it.

After a moment of hesitation, she wrote, “ _be stronger than I was,_ ” at the bottom of the paper.

_Alexander Hamilton,  
_

_I wish I could hate you. I really do, and I've tried many times. I wish I could hate you, but I can't._

_It wasn't your fault when you didn't what was best for yourself, and I know that it's only a human instinct to protect yourself in these situations. You just wanted to preserve your name and your legacy. It was my fault too- I should have ended it before it started. As hard as it is to place blame on the dead, don't shoulder this as your own fault, let me hold part of the burden.  
_

_Talk to John, don't make it worse. I know you love him, I know you miss him. He feels the same, trust me. Don't make him feel worse about this. Apologize to Lafayette, because they didn't deserve what you said. Talk to Eliza, just apologize. I don't care if it's a one word apology or if you are at her feet begging. Try and find your friends again, and try and find yourself.  
_

_Alex, I wish I could hate you, as I'm sure you hate me. I don't blame you- I hated myself too.  
_

_-Maria Lewis  
_

_Angelica and Peggy,  
_

_You were the closest thing to family I ever had. I miss you so much, and I lived in regret everyday. But I understand. You did what you needed to, and I just wish I had the strength to do the same.  
_

_Thank you for letting me live with you, for teaching me how to cook, for letting me draw you, for staying up with me hours into the night when I had nightmares. Thank you for always listening and never complaining.  
_

_Take care of Eliza. That goes without saying but I feel I need to anyways. Take care of yourselves. Angel, that means relaxing sometimes. Peggy, you can't do everything, even if you want to. I wish I could live to see you all graduate and succeed. I have no doubt that you'll both go far.  
_

_I love you both, and I'm sorry. For this, for everything.  
_

_-Maria Lewis_

Maria paused, wiping her eyes. Tears were starting to leak down her cheeks. This next one was hard to write, hard to even know what to say.

_My dearest, Eliza,  
_

_There are so many things I want to say, but I don't have enough time. I need to be sure it's done by 5, when freaks go for early runs, and I don't know how long it will take. Here I go:  
_

_I wish I had been better. I wish I wasn't broken. I wish I had the build to be all that you deserve and more. I wish I could have said no.  
_

_I didn't want to hurt you, I'd never want to hurt you. If I could do it all again, I'd watch you from a distance, behind the barrier of friendship only, I'd never date you no matter how much I'd want to. You deserve the world, Elizabeth Schuyler, but the world does not deserve you.  
_

_You lit up my life, you made my life worthwhile, but like a flame that flickers out too soon, it was gone. I destroyed us, and I could have never forgiven myself for that. I'm sorry I wasn't enough, I'm sorry I hurt you.  
_

_If I'm entirely honest, I never wanted to love you. I never wanted this beautiful, pure thing that we had. I went with it because how could I not? I loved you, I love you, I'll love you. It just happened and I don't know how.  
_

_Take care of yourself. You're so talented, so perfect. Your future is so bright and I only regret that I won't be there to see it. Eliza, I love you, and if I hadn't fucked this all up, I'd want to spend the rest of my life with you. I'm sorry that that couldn't happen.  
_

_My love, take your time, and one day I'll see you on the other side.  
_

_Adieu, best of loves and best of women.  
_

_-Maria Lewis_

The second she signed her name, she burst into tears, adding the note to the stack beside her. Her heart was shaking, shattering. It was burning, twisting, writhing in agony. She didn't want to die but she wanted to die so badly, and there was nothing else she could do.

But not until she wrote this last note.

Her hand was shaking so badly that she could hardly hold the pencil, but she had to write this.

_James Reynolds,  
_

_It's over. I might be dead, but I've won.  
_

_The evidence is clear, make no mistake. I'm not sorry, I'm not scared of you. You heartless bastard, may you rot in prison and may all your people be free.  
_

_You don't deserve mercy or freedom, you don't deserve anything other than the pain and suffering that you inflicted on me and the girls for years.  
_

_I'll see you in hell, I suppose.  
_

_Long Live The King.  
-Maria Lewis_

A sick satisfaction filled her. At least now she could die knowing she'd said all she needed to say to this man, at least she'd die knowing he could be put behind bars. Slowly, as if purposefully trying to waste time, she stacked the notes and lay them a few feet away. The one addressed to “whom it may concern” lay on top. The order of the rest didn't matter, but the sketchbook lay at the bottom, a quick note scrawled on the inside with the words, “give this to Eliza Schuyler.

Maria looked around her, feeling a sadness wrap long hands around her chest and squeeze, suffocating and cold. It was 2am, and the sun hadn't yet stirred but she could imagine the rows of rose and violet stretching across the sky, tinged gold. She could imagine the reflection of the light on the ocean, on the rooftops and windows or houses, splashed across Eliza's face.

It was time.

Her hands were shaking as she slowly opened the bottle of pills and poured about half the bottle into her hand. A few spilled out and lay on the ground, so small against the Earth but able to wage such war against her body that they would end her life.

Briefly, she wondered if she should have brought water, but the discomfort of dry swallowing several times was nothing compared to what came next.

_Tick tick tick tick_

This was what scared her the most.

_Tick tick tick tick_

She picked up the razor, catching a momentary glimpse of her face in the blade. She breath stuttered and caught. What was once beautiful, full cheeks and lips, bright eyes and healthy hair was dry and limp, sunken and shadowed. Her eyes had disappeared into the shadows of her face so she appeared almost like a skeleton, her cheeks had sunken into shadow. She looked more dead that alive.

Hatred filled her body, hatred towards Reynolds and towards herself. She never deserved another chance, never deserved Eliza or Angelica or Peggy, never deserved to survive Reynolds the first time. What a waste her life was, when a dying child could have lived if only she had died sooner. Her body was numb with hate and when roses began to blossom under steel, stretching from her pulse point to her elbow, she felt almost relief.

The steel bit into her skin again, and she cried out this time, torn and ripped at the edges. Tears began to fall down her face, stinging her arm and it burned and bled and hurt so badly that she thought she might pass out. She had to finish this.

Maria had imagined death so much that it felt more like a memory, but in all those faux memories, she'd never imagined that this would be how it ends- in a field beneath a sky in a world she didn't truly want to leave. She didn't want to die, but there was nothing left for her. It was easy.

 _Coward_ , the little voice in her head spat. It sounded like Eliza, like the only time she'd ever been mad. _You're a fucking coward._

At this point, failure wasn't an option.

The other arm was harder, now that she knew what to expect and the doubled pain. She smelt the metal mingle with blood and felt bile rise in her throat. Tears streamed down her face and her tongue was bleeding as she bit it to keep from screaming. Once or twice, she almost heaved, but stopped last minute because if the pills came up, it would be too risky. She just needed to die.

 _You deserve this,_ the voice sneered.

“I know,” she sobbed, pain overwhelming until all she could see were the black spots in front of her eyes. Without hesitation, she swallowed the rest of the pills, gagging as she tasted the metallic taste of her own blood.

Her body was no longer bare, but covered in a liquid dress, arms encased in red sleeves, painting her chest and legs and the ground beneath her. She lay down, trying to ignore the throbbing pain by telling herself that it would be over soon. The pain was almost numbing now, and whether it was the finality of it or the pills taking effect, she didn't care.

It was done.

What if a child found her? Or if an early morning jogger found her and she wasn't dead yet? What if she was saved?

_Tick tick tick_

Part of her wanted that.

_Tick tick tick_

She was so young yet so old and the world was so vast and beautiful and she just wanted to see it- “I just want to see it!” she cried, and her panic skyrocketed and suddenly she was drowning on dry land in the ocean of her thoughts and her pain. The light of the moon was blinding and burning and how could she breathe when oxygen was gone? 

A cold wind blew the clouds over the moon, plunging the world into darkness.

 _What will change when I die?_  
Her body started to shake involuntary, heart spazzing and she knew time was almost up. Times up, times up, timesuptimesuptimesup- wise up.

Eyes up.

For a fleeting moment, she saw Eliza’s face in the sky. Her eyes were sad and loving, reaching a hand down from the clouds and stroking Maria’s face was cold and gentle hands. “I'm sorry,” Maria whispered. “I love you.” Eliza smiled softly, fading into the darkness, drifting into the beyond.

Crickets chirped in the grass and lightening bugs floated overhead, hovering above her as if saying, “what's wrong?” _You wouldn't understand_.

A ladybug, terribly out of its normal season, landed on a blade of grass beside her. Eliza had always loved ladybugs, told Maria they were good luck.

On their first date, a ladybug had landed on her cheek. Eliza said it was good luck- a proclamation from the universe that they were meant to be.P

_I’d like to come back as a ladybug, if I had that choice._

Tick tick

_Eliza…_

Tick tick

Her thoughts were scattered, going by so fast that she couldn't grasp them, spinning around her like a hurricane. Everything was flying everywhere and that little voice in her head was screaming and panicking and- and then it all slowed down. She was standing in the eye, away from the storm but somehow still the most dangerous part of it all.

It was fuzzy, blurry. The hurricane that she knew would end her life shifted until she was at the edge, able to touch it. She couldn't think straight now, but she knew this was it. It was time to sleep.

She closed her eyes and imagined Eliza's arms around her, her soft skin and perfect smile. She held that image in her head until she was too tired even for that.

As a darkness began to cover her eyes, she saw that ladybug, illuminated by fireflies, and felt it land on her face. She felt it's tiny legs and soft weight and it was comforting, strange, yet comforting. A last tear slipped out of her eyes and she felt her heart beats breaking up, faster and slower and faster and slower and slower and faster. There was no rhythm anymore, so beat, no melody. Just silence and the rustle of wind through tall grass and a few crickets. 

She let the hurricane take her.

The world faded away.

_Tick_

2:33 on a Saturday morning.

_Tick_

_Boom_


	94. Chapter 94

The body was found 9:48am.

It was as cold as ice, brown eyes open and staring, face slack. There was blood dripping from her half open mouth, specks of foam on her lips and chin. Her hands were by her side, arms turned out to reveal gouging cuts spanning the entire length of her forearm. There was no life behind the blood, no longer a heart pumping it.

The ground around her was brown and sticky with blood, but a stack of papers off to her right had been spared. Half her chest was completely exposed, as well as her lower torso and legs. What might have been a dress before was torn and ripped away. She was thin, bones were visible beneath bruised and broken flesh.

There was a ladybug on her arm, just above the cut.

The man who found her, Ethan Michaels, called 911 immediately upon stumbling upon her with his dog on a morning run. He'd checked her pulse while the ambulance was on its way and bowed his head when he found none, covering her almost bare body with his shirt. He didn't even want to know how she'd ended up with torn clothes, covered in what appeared to be self inflicted wounds in the middle of nowhere. He stayed next to the body, not touching the notes, just kneeling there as if standing guard, until the police arrived.

The police read through all the notes, immediately deciding to send four officers to the address of James Reynolds for questioning, and a rescue team out for the girl's who had been described. The remaining two covered the body of the young woman in a white sheet, and carried her to the ambulance. Her arms hung limply at her side, thin legs dangling over the officers arm. Her head hit the door as they loaded her up. That didn't matter. The dead couldn't be hurt.

What came next was one of the most difficult parts. Several police had been sent out to locate and break the news to the people she had spoken about in her letters, and how do you tell these children what had happened? The horrors this dead girl had to live with everyday? But what had to be done had to be done, and there was no avoiding it.

It was 11:29am.

 

The knock on their door sounded like a bullet ricocheting throughout the quiet house. Angelica and John had been downstairs in the lounge talking, Peggy was sitting in her room, staring at the number on the business card she'd be given at the karaoke, and Eliza was in the kitchen cooking. No one had expected this.  
Angelica stood to go answer but Eliza stopped her. “Angelica, it’s a cop,” she whispered, eyes wide with worry and anxiety. “Why is he here?”

“A cop?” Angelica responded, already feeling the sinking in her guts. Something terrible had happened, that she knew for certain. “Eliza, stay here. Get John and Peggy.”

“Oh god, is dad okay?” she breathed, running a hand through her hair. “What if something happened to him? Or Theo and the baby? Or-“  
Angelica caught her other hand and squeezed it. The cop knocked again, louder this time.

“Go,” she whispered. “It's going to be okay.” Not even she believed it, but Eliza needed to. Her sister cast her a last look and turned to run up and get Peggy.

Angelica took a deep breath, calming herself. Slowly, she opened the door. “Hello?”  
The man must have been 6’3 at least, huge and broad. His hair was black and grey, face sharp and drawn. “Elizabeth Schuyler?”

“Angelica Schuyler, sir,” she said, trying to see as laid back and not nervous as possible. “Can I help you, sir?”

At that moment, John appeared behind her, closely followed by Eliza me Peggy. “What's happened?” Peggy asked, no trace of fear in her voice, but Angelica felt her body shaking. Pride swelled in her chest.

“May I come in?” The officer asked, holding out his ID. Jacob Kernels.

Angelica shoved the others out of the way and gestured him in. “This way, sir,” she said, walking to the living room. Discreetly, she pushed her sisters in front of her. John touched her arm lightly, giving her a questioning glance. She shook her head.

Once they were all sat in the living room, Eliza finally spoke, “Officer Kernels, why are you here, sir?”

“I'm afraid something has happened to a-“, he pulled out a paper and checked it quickly, “-a Miss Maria Lewis. Do you know her?”

Eliza felt her stomach drop. The heat of everyone's eyes on her was almost too much to bear. She felt concern and confusion bear pour into her. “Oh god,” she whispered in a broken voice. “What happened?” Angelica's hand on hers wasn't enough to stop her heart from beating in her ears.

The Officer handed each of them a piece of paper. “Miss Lewis was found in Lakeside meadow dead with self inflicted wounds. We believe it was a suicide.”

_What?_

What? No.

No, this couldn't have happened. There was no way. Maria couldn't be dead, she couldn't be dead this was a misunderstanding she was fine shewasntdeadshewasfinenonononono  
No!

Eliza didn't realize she had screamed the last word until the aftershock of her explosion tore up her throat like a knife, leaving her breathless and bleeding. She felt herself fall, heard Angelica call for her, and felt Peggy’s arms wrap around her. She was shaking, trembling so much she thought the world must be shaking too because no no no this didn't happen nonononothiscanthappenthiscanthavehappened

The world was moving so fast that she felt she might pass out and the words spoken around her were meaningless and all she caught was her own name but that didn't matter because nothing mattered because without Maria…  
Without Maria, everything was empty.  
Without Maria, the color in the world was gone, drained like the life in Eliza's soul.  
Without Maria, it was all meaningless.

Without Maria…

Eliza felt herself go limp against her sister, curled into a ball on the floor. The noise in her ears faded to a background and she could hear the Officer explaining that Maria had left everyone notes, personalized for each individual, that she'd written the Reynolds Pamphlet, which would be making National news and lead to the arrest of Reynolds. She heard John laugh harshly at that only to have it break with a sob.

Angelica pulled her up into something like a hug but Eliza couldn't bring herself to hug back, to even respond. She just rested her face against her sister's chest, not even crying. She was too numb to cry, but she felt Angelica's chest shaking with swallowed sobs because she wasn't allowed to cry.  
_You have to hold it together,_ the voice inside Angelica whispered. _Stay strong for Eliza and Peggy and John._

 _I'm trying,_ she thought. _Maria…oh go_ d…  
Gently, she shifted Eliza up and helped her back onto the couch, where she curled up and stared into nothingness. Peggy’s eyes were red and streaming with grief and she pressed into Angelica for comfort, seeking relief from the unimaginable. John was clutching his letter, thin hands shaking. She knew he wouldn't be eating tonight or tomorrow probably, again turn to food as control, as a painkiller. She knew she'd have to cook, coax her sister's and John- her _family_ \- to take care of themselves.

She wasn't allowed the grieve except in the solitude of her own room, locked away from the prying eyes of the people she loved.

What did they ever do to deserve this? Peggy should be reading her school assignments, not her friends suicide note. Eliza should be looking forward to seeing her girlfriend, not dreading her funeral, and John should be with Alex, not them.

The Officer handed her a sketchbook and her heart broke as she saw the note dedicating the book to Eliza. She thanked him softly and listened to him leave.

She wondered if the others had found out yet. She wondered if they were okay, if they’d broken like Eliza and put up walls like her.

Herc and Laf hadn't expected a police woman to show up at their door, face steely and lips drawn into a thin line. Neither of them had excepted her to invite herself in after flashing a badge reading ‘Gretchen Lenwey’. Neither of them had expected what she had to say.  
“Mr. Mulligan and Mr. Lafayette, I presume?” she asked, propping muddy feet up on their table.

Laf hushed Herc as he opened his mouth, squeezing his hand. “That's us,” they said. There was a policewoman in their house- this was more serious than their pronouns. Anxiety churned in their chest, pulling at their throat until it felt like a noose. “What happened?”  
The woman sighed, face hard and old as stone. “A body was found in Lakeside meadow. I believe you knew the person.”

When Herc heard the words, his mind flew to two people. Alex and John. He felt sick, praying to everything and anything that it wasn't one of them. Laf’s face paled and their grip on his hand tightened exponentially. “Who?” he choked out.

“Maria Lewis. We've called it a suicide.”

And that's when Laf collapsed against his chest, as if the information had taken only seconds to penetrate their mind and bury itself in their heart. They clutched with biting hands at his chest. “No,” they whispered. “No, oh

god, no!”  
Herc was in shock. Maria? He hadn't seen her for ages but he could remember when he first met her, scared and timid, every noise and movement set her off. He'd felt a brotherly responsibility for the girl. Maria couldn't be dead. Maria couldn't have killed herself, it wasn't possible.

She could have been Laf.

After the information sunk partially in, all he could think was that months ago, Herc could have sat here alone, facing an officer who could have told him that a body was found in the river. Could have told him that body belonged to Laf. And his world would have crumbled around him because how can you live when your love is gone and-

“-Eliza,” he whispered suddenly, pulling himself into reality. “Oh, God. Eliza…”

Laf let out a broken sob, burying their face in his chest and running a shaking hand across his cheeks, pulling his face close. “Mon amour, Je ne peux pas le croire.” I can't believe it. “Eliza will be in so much pain…”

Herc pressed a kiss to their face, pulling them against him and clutching them as tight as he could. He couldn't begin to imagine the pain Eliza must be in. He'd seen Lafayette stare death in the face and reach to touch it, he'd seen them in their darkest moments, when they broke down and prayed to die, but the difference was that they were here and they were alive. Eliza would never be able to hold Maria, kiss her or touch her and promise that it would all be okay because she was gone.

She was dead.

Somewhere far away, her body was being examined and studied on a cold silver table, stripped and probed and touched by strangers. In life, she'd have hated that, but it didn't matter now, did it?

The dead couldn't feel.

Alex couldn’t feel.

He couldn’t think.

Just moment ago, an officer had left his house, left him sitting with a folded note and a pamphlet on his lap. He couldn’t bring himself to open them, too afraid of facing his faults that he’d rather hide in the face of repercussion because he’d never imagined them to be as harrowingly vast as this.

Maria was gone.

She was dead.

And it was his fault.

Of course, he rationalized, it wasn’t technically his fault. He didn’t hold the razor to her wrist, didn’t force the pills down his throat and stop her beating heart. He didn’t force her back with Reynolds, didn’t give her the idea to kill herself. But he hadn’t stopped her.

She’d ended up there through a series of turning and winding paths unfolding from the Lewis Pamphlet and ending at the Reynolds one. He hadn’t guided her to her destination, but he’d handed her a time bomb and sent her off. She’d chosen her road, not him.

 _It’s not my fault,_ he defended internally.

 _She could be alive if you’d said no_.

 _She also said yes,_ he reminded.

_You’d have John if you’d said no._

John...

“I have to see him,” Alex whispered, standing quickly, but his legs didn’t want to support him and he sunk back down. Maybe he should read the letters first.


	95. Chapter 95

James Reynolds knew what his Crown had planned on doing, but he'd severely underestimated her drive to do so. The Maria he had known, had molded, would never disobey or run, never have the strength to use what she had taken. 

He supposed he hadn't known her as well as he had believed then.  
Police showed up at his house around 10:08, guns drawn.

They'd ordered him down, hands up, don't move. In voices moving too fast, blending together like paints, they explained why he was under arrest. He couldn't understand what they were saying through his heart beating in his ears, but he already knew.

Maria was dead. His Crown was gone, and his rule was up.

Long live the King.

Long live the King was what Maria wrote on the note addressed to him. Her last, everlasting, mocking reminder that she was his downfall, his breaking point. His whole operation had been blown because of her.

The police lead him into their car, demanded the locations of the other girls. They knew about two already, courtesy of Maria, and the two had been “rescued”. Apparently, they wanted to testify against him in a court of law, wanted to see him locked up for good. 

He didn't blame them- those stupid bitches.

Part of him wanted to fight back, to laugh and say how stupid this was, but it was all empty, dark. All his money couldn't buy his freedom when the guilt of all his crimes started biting at his heels, driving him into a cage. 

It was over.

There was nothing

There was nothing in this realm in which Eliza existed, just space that a hope that Maria would come back and they would mend their broken relationship used to fill. Now that was gone, and rich blackness crept through her world, slowly erasing her sisters’ attempts at comfort, her friends trying to accept the unacceptable.  
Nobody wanted to believe Maria was gone.

It had been two days, and the story had made national news.

The girl who had exposed a ring of sex traffickers in her suicide note made plenty to talk about, plenty to speculate on and about. Her pain and broken past was exploited by news network after news network, article after article. None of these reporters knew her, saw her at her lowest moments, and they still believed they had the right to talk about her like this, like she was a friend or an open book.

It was irrational to deny that she was gone, Eliza knew, and yet she, and everyone else, couldn't believe it. It was natural to do so, John told her, but pointless. It wouldn't change anything, but to ignore what had happened was so much less painful that to accept that she was gone.

Theo, belly finally swelling with pregnancy, had joined them to grieve. She'd understood Maria, known what she'd dealt with, what she'd gone through. She'd held Eliza and cried with Peggy and mourned with Angelica. Aaron came as well, accompanying Theo. He looked solemn and hard, eyes fixed on nothing. He wouldn't have been there if she wasn't.

To everyone’s surprise, it was the day after the news had been delivered that Alexander Hamilton showed up at the Schuyler’s door and asked if he could come in. Theo and Aaron had left before hand, once Aaron insisted Theo rest. The pride and cockiness was gone, replaced by quiet grief and guilt.

“Of course,” Angelica said, waving him in. Her eyes and mannerisms were hostile, but she didn't have the heart to turn him away at this time. “What do you want?”

Hamilton looked and her and then away. “I just need…I just need to talk to your sister, to Laf, to…to John. I want to- to apologize.” It was hard to admit, but he needed to.

“Don't make things worse,” she warned, stopping him before they entered the living room. “Don't expect them to forgive you, but I assume you already know that. They’ll never forgive you all the way, but if my sister can accept your apology, so can I.”

“I don't expect them to forgive me, Angelica,” Alex said honestly, watching her emotions shifting so fast that they became a blur of mistrust, anger, grief, sadness.

“If you hurt them, especially John, more than you already have, I’ll kill you myself,” she threatened softly. Her face was dangerous and trying, but her hands were gentle when they pushed him into the other room.

Alex froze as he felt all eyes on him. Eliza had been in a corner, a half eaten sandwich on her lap. Herc was sewing what appeared to be a blue, red, and purple jacket. Laf was leaning against him, watching. John sat by himself, an untouched sandwich on the chair beside him and a sketchbook open in his lap. Now all eyes were locked on him and surprise hung heavily in the room, dragging the already cold temperature to freezing point.

“What do you want?” Herc was the first to speak, setting aside his needle and thread and pushing Laf off his shoulder to stand. He didn't sound particularly mad, just exhausted.

Words choked him, strangling like a noose, and Alex couldn't find the words because there were so many he needed and wanted to say. “I…I need to talk to you,” he said, surprising himself with how shaky his voice was. “I need to talk to all of you. Eliza-“

Eliza flinched at her name, as if having him say it caused her physical pain. “What?” Her voice was sharp and cutting, unlike how he'd ever heard it before. She sounded broken, like her edges made way into her voice and sliced the music out of it.

“Eliza…” All other words left him until the only thing he could remember how to say was her name. “Eliza, oh God, Eliza. Could I-I need to speak with you alone.”

Eliza looked over at her sister with a questioning look. Angelica shrugged. “Five minutes,” she responded, following Alex into the hall. “Why are you here?” she snapped once they were out of view.

“I'm so fucking sorry,” he whispered, and broke. He fell to his knees, sobs rising in his chest and suddenly it was all too real.

Maria was dead, and it was partially his own fault. He triggered the chain of events leading to this moment. If he could have just said no, he could be with John right now and Eliza wouldn't be struggling under the weight of knowing her love was dead.

Her soft hands pulled him into a loose hug as she crouched beside him, as if it wasn't in her nature to turn away from anyone in any pain. “For what?” she asked softly, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

“Everything,” Alex said, because what else was there to say? “Everything I did, everything I shouldn't have done. The Pamphlet- I didn't even pause to think about her and maybe if I had, she'd be…she'd be here with us. Maybe- it's not even a question of maybe anymore; I know I could have stopped it, I know this stems from me being disloyal, from me writing the Pamphlet. Eliza, if I could trade my life for hers, she'd be here with you right now.”

It took a moment for her to pull herself together enough to respond. Every emotion, every hateful thing she'd ever thought about him she wanted to say, but here he was, unraveling in her arms and she couldn't bring herself to say them. “You didn't know this would happen,” she soothed, sitting back. Alexander’s eyes were wet and sad. “You didn't know she'd end up…end up dead,” she plowed through. “I can't blame you for this. I want to, but I know she wouldn't want me to so I'm not going to. I don't even know if I could, given the chance. Alexander, I'll never forgive you for what you did to my sisters, Maria, John, and I. As long as I live, I'll never forgive and I'll never forget, but I can't-“ Tears started to drip down her cheeks. “You've been hurt enough by your own actions; you don't need me to do that to you too. I loved her, Alexander, I still do. I can't forgive you, but for her sake, I want to push past that. I want to be able to coexist.”

Alexander looked like he might start full on sobbing any given moment. He touched her hand hesitantly, as if he didn't know if he was allowed to. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I don't deserve this.”

“I agree,” she responded with a small smile, her first since Maria had died. “You don't, but Maria wants- wanted- it to be so. I hope you're planning to talk to Laf and Herc and John too.”

Alexander looked a little scared at the prospect but nodded. “They deserve an apology.” He stood up, offering her a hand which she took. Together they walked back into the room where Herc looked suspiciously at their tear stained faces but chose not to ask any questions.

There was nothing but silence for perhaps a minute while everyone looked between Eliza and Alex with concern and curiosity. Angelica, however, stood in the corner. Her face was alight with bittersweet happiness and a little pride.

“Lafayette?” Alex asked softly, his voice thunderous in the silence, but he felt it shaking. “I need to talk to you, please.”

Lafayette and Herc both stood. “It's alright,” Laf said softly, kissing his cheek. “Wait for me.”

“Always,” Herc murmured back. “Just shout if you need anything.” He sat back down.

The silence between Laf and Alex as they walked down into the kitchen was frosty and cutting. Neither of them spoke, just exchanged suspicious and curious glances. Finally, when the silence reached a deafening peak, Laf spoke. “Why are you here?” They sounded sad and more than a little scared.

Alex felt his heart break and he hesitated for a moment. “I want to apologize,” he began.

They shook their head, laughing bitterly. “No. No, not now. It's been months, Hamilton. Months! And after what you did, what you said to me? Just, I can't do this.”

“I know,” Alex whispered, tears already filling his eyes. What had he done? Why couldn't he have kept his temper those months ago? “You have every reason in the world not to forgive me, just head me out; that would be enough. I had no right to do what I did-“

“I agree.”

Alex nodded. “I know. Laf, you know I didn't mean what I said. I was so heart broken and angry and just for a second I saw him in you and I wanted to make him feel all the pain I was in against my better judgment.”

“I don't care,” they snapped. “I don't care why you said it or how much you regret saying it. The fact you even said it in the first place is the problem, when you knew about my past issues with…when you knew how easily I could have been Maria!” Their voice broke and they turned away to hide tears.

“I know. I don't have enough breath in my body to say I'm sorry as many times as is due.” Alex felt his heart shattering and falling to the floor. He had caused this, by saying what he said, he had ruined his friendship with them possibly forever. How could he ever forgive himself?

“I did love you,” they whispered softly. Alex could hardly hear them. “I mean it, honestly. I was hung up on you for a long time, and sometimes it was unbearable. I always…I always knew there would be something there, no matter how much I love Herc- and I love him more than life itself. I never thought I'd be over you entirely, but after what you did…” their voice sank to a broken, exhausted cry, “I can't even think of it without wanting to vomit.”

For some reason that struck him right where it hurt. Alex felt his chest tighten and his knees give out. He leaned against the counter, staggering to keep his balance. Laf’s eyes widened for a split second before Alex gathered himself. “I'm sorry,” he whispered again. “Laf, you never have to forgive me, just…let’s coexist. For Eliza.”

Laf stared at him. “She…she forgave you?”

“She's trying to.”

They nodded slowly. “Let's just, as you said, coexist; but first, I want to show you something.” They pulled up the sleeve of their sweater. Four slightly scarred dents gratified their otherwise smooth, dark skin. They turned their arm over to show a larger one. This one was almost faded.

Alex felt his heart drop and he reached out to touch them but Laf flinched back. “Those were from me?” he asked softly.

“They aren't bad. You left worse ones in my mind,” they breathed. They were avoiding his eyes, staring at nothing. “You heard what happened when you left, I presume?”

“I'm so sorry.” He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to face up to what he did, but there was no way around it.

“Sorry will never be good enough,” they said. “But for now, for Eliza and Maria’s sake, it will suffice. I think we’re done for now.” They turned and walked away. 

Alex closed his eyes, putting his head in his hands. Behind him, he heard footsteps and turned around. Peggy was standing there, head cocked. “You alright?” she asked. “I hear you're finally apologizing.”

“I am.”

“Alright or apologizing?”

Alex sighed, rubbing his arm. “Apologizing. Which I should probably do to you too.”

Peggy shook her head. “Please don't. All I need is for Eliza to accept your apology. Did she?”  
Alex shrugged. “I guess. We've decided to coexist. She said she'd never forgive me, but she wants to be civil. Peggy-“

“What?”

“How do I even begin to talk to John? After everything I've done, everything I’ve said and written. How can I even ask him to forgive me?” He felt like he was engaged in a war against himself, unable to settle for one way.

“You can't,” Peggy said quietly. “You'll never be able to ask for his forgiveness; it has to be given. Talk to him now and, if that fails, wait for him to be ready. He's lost too much, Alexander, far too much. He's lost his sister, Maria, you, and a piece of himself as well. Just…just wait for him.”

“For how long?”

She sighed, leaning against the counter and pushing her hair back. “As long as it takes.”


	96. Chapter 96

Alex stood behind the doorway, taking a deep breath. It wasn't John he needed to talk to right now, but this was just as scary.

“Herc,” he called, gathering his strength and stepping into the room. “Herc, I need…I need to talk to you now. Please.”

Herc smiled at him a little, nodding. His demeanor was forced and stiff but the smile was real. “Of course.”

The two walked to the kitchen in silence, where they continued not speaking until finally, Alex said, “I'm sorry,” and the same time the other said, “thank you.”

“Thank you?” Alex repeated. “For what?”

“You did it, Alex,” Herc said with a smile. “You got your shit together. When I was in the hospital, I told you what you needed to do and you did it. I had my doubts, and I know neither Eliza or Laf have forgiven you truly, but it's a start.”

Alex held up a hand. “No, please don't do this. I hurt you too. I hurt people you care about so much, and I know that caused you pain as well. I'm sorry.”

“And I forgive you, Alex,” Herc said, squeezing his arm. “I do, one hundred percent.”

“Really?” he whispered, feeling his eyes burning.

“Yeah.”

Alex smiled. “Thank you.” He didn't deserve this, didn't deserve this at all. He touched Herc’s arm gently. “I'm trying to make this right, and I’m not going to stop trying until I do.”

Herc nodded. “I believe you.”

“I'm scared though. John…” He bit off the words, determined not to release all his emotions, to stay strong.

“He's not going to forgive you,” Herc stated matter-of-factly. “He'll never forgive you, not all the way, not after everything you've done. He still loves you, Alex, and you still love him. There's always that.”

Alex smiled a little, heart simultaneously heavy and floating. “He's told you that? That he…loves me?”

Herc put his hand on Alex’s shoulder, smiling. He still looked sad, but more so bittersweet. “There are some things you don't need to be told to know.”

Alex felt his eyes burning and he turned away, wiping them with his sleeve and willing the tears to go away. _He still loves me…after all I've done to him, to Laf, to the Schuyler's, and Herc, he still loves me…_

Together, faces a little brighter, steps a little higher, they walked back to the living room, where everyone sat. Alex felt as if one hundred tons of guilt were driving him into the ground as he saw John half rise as they walked into the room. He knew it was his turn. Alex nodded, beckoning him into the hall.

They walked in the most uncomfortable silence Alex had ever experienced, both looking at the other while the other was looking away. The air felt cold and frosty, as when his hand just barely touched John's, it seemed ice encrusted both of them. Finally, after what seemed like years of walking, they stopped.

“Look at where we are,” Alex said, unsure of what to say. He didn't have a script, couldn't formulate this plan on his mind, so everything came straight from his heart. “Look at where we started. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but hear me out; that would be enough. If I could change the past, if I could just stay loyal to you, I'd have always been by your side, and she'd be alive; that would be enough. I don't pretend to know the challenges we’re facing, I know there's no fixing what I broke, and you need time, but I’m not afraid; I know what we’ve all been through, just let us stay here by your side. Would that be enough?”

John just looked at him, saying nothing. Despite the heavy silence, everything he said and thought were clear. No. No, it isn't enough. He just looked at Alex, not speaking, not moving. His eyes glittered with disappointment and sorrow. He shook his head, eyes boring a hole straight into Alex’s very soul, dismembering him with the weight of all he'd done to tear them apart and all that pain he'd caused packed into one person.

He walked away.

Alex dropped to his knees, feeling his body shaking with dry sobs. Of course…of course it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, nothing he'd ever do would be good enough to erase what he'd done, how he'd hurt everyone. The forgiveness he'd gotten from Eliza and Laf had been more for Maria’s sake than anyone else's- only Herc gave out of his own free will, not feeling pressured because of another person. The person who's forgiveness mattered most was the only forgiveness he hadn't gotten, and it hurt like a bullet in his chest. He'd tried to repent his actions, to step forward and beg for forgiveness. He'd never imagined that it wouldn't work, yet here he sat, alone and exhausted and broken.

Slowly, forcefully, he pulled himself out of the abyss of empty and glued himself back together. He couldn't show how much this had hurt because he deserved every bit of that pain. For once, there was nothing more he could say.

 

There were one million things John wanted to say.

_I forgive you._

_I can't forgive you._

_I miss you._

_Leave me alone._

_Her death isn't your fault._

_It's all your fault._

_It's enough._

_It's not enough._

_Hold me._

_I want you._

_I need you._

_I love you._

Words, like water, filled his chest as he plunged into the ocean of thoughts and pain. He wanted to cry and scream and just not exist, to pull himself away from the never ending pain. There was so much inside of him that he felt as if his weakened body could not contain it all, as if his insides were rebelling against the shell cradling them.  
Before he knew what he was doing, he was running out the door, barefooted and in sweatpants and a t- shirt. Unconsciously, he sought comfort in the rhythm of his feet slapping the pavement and the sting of rocks under his skin as he sunk into the familiarity. Wind buffeted his face and pulled his hair with hands of ice and he kept running. This time, he knew where he was going.

There was freedom in the motions, providing him with escape from the ever present abyss in his heart, in his mind. All thoughts were wiped clean, as if shaken away on an etch ’n sketch. He didn't realize how far it was, nor did he give it any thought until he collapsed on the sand, hand outstretched towards the water, as if grasping at it. His body, running on empty for so long, finally gave out and he lay there, exhausted, until he was swept into the sea of his own mind, not enough energy to pull him out.  
He didn't know how long he lay there, if he fell asleep or unconscious, but whatever state he was in was peaceful and calm. He felt detached from his body, drifting into the calm air. Even the waves, sometimes touching his hands with cold laps didn't make him move. He just didn't have the strength.

How easy it would be just to sleep, to drift off, but he knew he had to stay awake. He had to get up and go home before people got worried. The beach would be the first place they'd check, after all, with his history on these shores. Faintly, he wondered when they'd be worried enough or if they'd decided they were better off without him and let him go. He knew they wouldn't do that but somewhere, deep in his heart, he felt as if that was entirely possible.

From where he lay, limbs too tired and heart to heavy to move, he watched as the sky slowly turned grey with on coming rain, unusual for summer. When he felt the first drops, he imagined Maria in those clouds, the rain her tears. Why was she crying? For the future she'd lost? The lives she'd helped ruin? Knowing her wish of John and Hamilton apologizing would never come to be? He missed her so much that it hurt. She had been his friend, someone he related to on a level that only his siblings could really understand, and maybe Jefferson. She'd been through hell and back, just like him, and their experiences might have been different but the ghosts that haunted them were still the same.

As the rain began to fall harder, John wasn't sure if what he heard in the distance was thunder or footsteps until someone dropped to their knees beside him, calling his name. “John? John!” Rough hands grabbed him and rolled him over and he wasn't entirely surprised to see Herc staring at him in horror. “Oh Lord, are you okay?”

John didn't move, just sighed. “I'm alright,” he breathed.

Footsteps thudded beside Herc and Laf, face pale, dropped down. “What happened?” they demanded.

John fought to recall the events. “I just ran and then I couldn't anymore and I just…” Even talking was making him more and more tired. “I just stopped. I couldn't move.” He sighed. “I'm tired.”  
Herc gently lifted him into sitting position. Behind his shoulder, John caught a glimpse of Hamilton standing there. He looked shocked, face pale and drawn, frozen to the ground. John stared at him for a moment and he stared back. Then, slowly, he turned away to walk presumably home.

John felt his heart ache. “Laf,” he said softly, “could you tell him to wait?”

Laf bit their lip, eyes sparkling. There was no need to say a name when all of three knew who was being referred to. “Of course.” They squeezed his hand tightly. “Alexander, wait!”

Hamilton stopped and turned back. “What?”

“Come here!” Herc called. He looked back at John. “Do you want a moment?”

“I think so.”

Laf nodded. “We won't be far. Hear him out. You don't have to forgive, just listen. He was worried sick when we were looking for you, and…”

“I know.” He knew alright, from so much time spent wishing and imagining an apology, imagining what he'd say, but having those fantasies becoming a reality was something he hadn't prepared for. He didn't know, now that Hamilton would be there in front of him, real, that he could forgive him. He'd have to try.

Laf cast one last look at him before they walked away, leaving marks in the wet sand. As Hamilton approached, he hesitated, standing in front of John for a moment. The silence was dense and uncomfortable, like a shoe several sizes too small. Finally, he sat beside John, keeping his distance.

What seemed like years passed undisturbed. Neither of them spoke, just sunk into that empty silence, familiar and uncomfortable. John recalled how they'd first met, recalled how they had sat together, how they'd started to fall for one another before everything went to hell.

He missed it so much.

Finally, Hamilton took a deep breath, deciding to break the memories and the silence. “Look around, look around, John-“ His voice broke almost before he finished the first few words and he closed his eyes, shoulders trembling, but he didn't cry. He just turned to face the ocean, profile angelic against the still grey sky.  
There were moments that the words don't reach, there's a grace too powerful to name. In that moment they pushed away what they could never truly understand, locked away the unimaginable. The storms were fading, replaced by a pale blue sky. John cleared his throat.

“The ocean’s calm right now.”

Alex blinked. What was that in his voice?

 _Forgiveness_.

He’d prepared himself never to hear that.

Can you imagine?

 _Forgiveness_.

He couldn't imagine.

The weight of the world crashed down on his shoulders, the weight of his own crimes against himself and everyone he loved. Suddenly, it was all too much and he found himself bent over his knees, hands fisting the sand, eyes burning with unshed tears. He fought back a sob rising in his throat and failed, putting face in his arms and letting the tears come.

Only ten or fifteen minutes ago, he’d been frantically racing Laf and Herc to the beach, terrified of what John could have done. There had been a long, heart stopping moment when he just couldn't see him, scanning the waves and the shore for any sign. Then he'd seen the figure lying in the sand, unmoving, and his heart stopped. As Herc and Laf ran over to check on him, Alex had prepared himself. Prepared himself for a cry of anguish and another funeral. He'd prepared himself for John to be dead, just like Martha, just like Mariah, like Eleanor Laurens, like his own mother. Loosing people was such a second nature that his first reaction to seeing John was that he must be dead. No other explanation seemed possible.  
What hurt the most was the idea of John dying without forgiving him, and Mark being all alone in the world.

Something soft touched his back, hesitant and gentle, unsure. John rubbed a circle into his spine, attempting to calm him but the gesture only fueled his sobs. He didn't deserve this. “I'm so sorry,” Alex whispered. “I'm so fucking sorry.” He looked up and saw that John’s eyes were wet too and he was shaking.

“I know. Do you…you do remember what I said? After I found out?” he asked softly, voice breaking.

“I could never forget,” Alex whispered, tears streaming down his cheeks. “ ‘I saved every letter you wrote me. From the moment I read them, I knew you were mine-‘“

“You said you were mine,” John finished, “I thought you were mine.”

“Yeah, I know.”

John shook his head, looking out over the water. “I don't know.”

Alex tilted his head. “Know what?”

“Anything. Anything anymore. I thought I knew my sister’s strength, and she's dead. I thought I knew you were mine and you betrayed me. I thought I knew Maria would be alright and she's…she's dead. I thought I knew I wouldn't forgive you and now… I haven't, of course, not all the way, but I never thought I'd even come this far.” He lifted his head to the sky, the light catching tear tracks on his cheeks. “Everything I thought I knew was wrong and I don't know where to turn now.”

“You have Jefferson, Laf, Herc. You have the Schuyler’s, your brother. They love you, John.” I love you.

“I know, and I want it to be enough, but…” He shook his head. “I'm still angry with you, you know. I might always be.”

“I wouldn't expect anything else.”

John sighed, leaning back. There were a million things he wanted to say. “You know, I had my suspicions before…before you did everything, told the whole world.”

“Really?” Alex asked, surprised. He glanced over at him and then away.

“Herc asked Laf if there was a possibility, after the library when I was at their house,” John recounted. He'd never told him this before. “Laf, of course, said there was no way.” His voice was cold and frosted. “It kinda stayed in my head. Then, when you were having spa night, I ran into some girls and we walked. One of their boyfriend’s had cheated on her and she told me how he acted before hand. You checked every box. I just didn't want to believe it.”

Alex felt a lump in his throats and scratched out, “I'm so sorry.”

John swiveled his head around, turning his shoulders towards Alex. “You know, if you'd just told me, or if I’d just walked in, I wouldn't have been as mad as I am. But everyone we know- and I mean everyone- knew before me, and that's what tore me apart. The dishonesty was worse than the crime you committed against me.”

Alex lowered his head under that piercing gaze. “I'd have done differently if I'd known.”

“That makes it almost worse, Alexander! You'd do differently because you know the consequences? You can't take the easy way out!” he snapped, getting heated.

Alex raised his hands slowly. “No, because I panicked and it was a spur of the moment idea to plant that letter, to write the Pamphlet…I didn't think straight. If I’d given it a moment more thought maybe…”

“Maybe you wouldn't have shown it to the world? Let you mistakes be known only to us?” John sighed. “Alexander, I can't do this right now. If you want to talk to me, come back tomorrow.” He stood, closing his eyes for a second.

There was a vulnerability on his face that Alex had never seen before. He looked childlike- not shrunken and scared like how he'd seemed when Henry Laurens spoke to him- but just…soft. As if a gust of wind could take him, or maybe the gentle waves. He seemed to glow, to contract into his shell, disappearing. It was as if the universe was being packed into a pouch, and for some reason, it left Alex breathless.

“…come back tomorrow,” he repeated. So there would be a tomorrow, and if there was, maybe the days after that would come too. Slowly but surely. Maybe this wasn't the end.  
John turned, footsteps disappearing quickly on the wet sand, and he faded away, but this time Alex knew he'd see him again. This time, they were building, not tearing down.

 


	97. Chapter 97

'Tomorrow', as John had said, did not happen. Instead, the next days were consumed by preparations for the funeral.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Herc asked anxiously, running his hands over Laf’s chest. They were dressed in black suits, fraudulent mourning wear. It was the day they all been dreading. Maria’s funeral was upon them.

Of all the people involved, Laf might have been taking it the hardest, besides Eliza. They understood what Maria must have thought, must have felt to lead her to the point she'd been at before she'd died. They understood her pain, or a ghost of it at least. It was an uncomfortable reminder of the bridge, of how close they'd been. Frequently, Herc would see them pacing and pacing until their legs gave out and they just sat on the floor, singing along to music in a broken voice, trying to distract themself from the idea that they'd be putting their friend in the ground today.

“I'm fine, mon amour,” Laf insisted, but they looked pale. “Don't leave me; I couldn't bear it.” Their hands found his and squeezed them tightly. “It's all so…I can imagine watching the service and replacing her name with mine and nothing changing. I always thought that, out of us all, it would be me who'd go first. Not Maria.”

Herc pulled them into a hug, letting their head rest against his shoulder. “The world works in fucked up ways,” he said softly. “You'll be okay; we all will.”

They snuffled. “I know you don't believe that.

Herc sighed, fighting back his own tears. “You're right. Thomas wants to see you after. He doesn't think he should come so he isn't, but he wants to make sure that you're not…that you're okay,” he amended.

Laf pulled back, narrowing their eyes a little. “Wants to make sure I'm not going to kill myself? Is that it?”

Herc bit his lip. “He's just worried,” he said softly. “That's it. You aren't…I mean, you aren't going to do anything, right?”

Laf didn't reply, just straightened their tie and rubbed their arms. “Let’s go.”

The car ride was tense and heavy. Laf pulled at the fabric around their shoulders and twisted the tie around their slender fingers while Herc’s knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. There was no conversation, no music. Neither of them took their eyes of the road, even when Herc let out a deep, shuddering breath and pulled into the church parking lot.

They entered in silence. The Schuyler’s were sitting in the front already, Eliza’s head bent and shoulder shaking. Angelica glanced over her shoulder and gestured the two to sit down. As they walked down the isle, they noticed a woman sitting alone. She looked old, despite probably only being in her mid thirties or early forties. She bore a striking resemblance to Maria, with full lips, dark hair, dark skin, but her face was more rectangular, and her eyes were awake and striking while Maria’s had sat deep in her face, sleepy and beautiful.

Herc tried his best to ignore her presence.

As they took their seats beside Angelica, the doors opened once more. Alexander Hamilton walked in, dressed in a black suit. His hair was down. Behind him walked John Laurens, eyes fixed on the back of Alex’s head, their hands almost brushing. Herc didn't know whether to cry or laugh. Once, John stopped, face growing pale as he saw the casket, and Alex took his wrist gently and pulled him forward. He looked up and saw Herc and Laf watching them and gave a sheepish smile.

The service started and ended within what seemed like five minutes, but the clock said it had been almost an hour. It was nonsensical, the entire thing. Maria would have hated it, hated seeing Eliza sob through every word the preacher spoke. She would have hated biblical references, talking about how “she'll be accepted into God’s loving embrace and held by Angels.” It was bullshit.

When the preacher finished, Eliza stood up, clutching a piece of paper. She'd been asked to speak afterwards and had spent hours stressing over whether or not her words were good enough. “Hi,” she said in a hoarse voice. She smoothed out her long black dress and pulled her ponytail over her shoulder. “Hi. I'm Eliza, I think everyone here knows me. Maria- Maria was my girlfriend and…and I loved her.”

Angelica turned her face away, wiping her eyes. Herc squeezed her arm. “It's okay to cry,” he whispered.

“I had a paper I was going to read but, um, I don't know how much I’ll use it.” Eliza looked to her sister, who nodded. “In the note Maria addressed to me, she said that she wished she could be what I deserved but…but, Maria, you were so much more than I could ever have asked for. I wish I could have been what you deserved, I wish I could have helped you, and I…” She let out a sob and covered her mouth with her hand like her heart was going to spill out from between her clenched teeth. “Sorry. Maria, I loved you. I love you. I will always love you. I'll admit to being hurt, to being mad, but not anymore. I know you made a mistake. I just wish you'd come to us when you needed help. I don't know what my future holds. I don't know if I'll fall in love again, if I’ll marry and have kids. The only future I ever pictured was with you by my side. Maria, my love, I promise that there will never be anyone I love quite as deeply, as intensely as you.” She looked out at the audience, hardly able to see through the veil of tears. “Thank you,” she managed, darting off the stage. The original speech drifted to the ground but she didn't go back to get it.

Angelica stood up as she approached, opening her arms. Eliza collapsed into them, sobbing. “I'm so proud of you,” she whispered, stroking her little sister’s hair. “We’re so proud of you.”  
Peggy came over, wrapping an arm around Eliza as well. “She'd have loved that. It was amazing.”

“I don't want it to have been amazing,” Eliza sobbed, clutching her sister's as if they were the only things tying her to the ground. “I just want her.”

Angelica's eyes floated over to the casket at the front of the room and she didn't say anything else.

As the preacher lead the group outside for the burial, the woman approached them. She seemed hesitant, nervous. “Eliza Schuyler?” she asked in a deep voice. Eliza visibly flinched; she sounded just like Maria.

“Yes?” she answered, turning to the woman. “I don't think we’ve met.”

“No,” the woman said. “I don't think so either. That was a beautiful speech, and I just wanted-“ she turned away and wiped her eyes. “I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you how much my daughter would have appreciated it.”

_My daughter._

Eliza felt ice spread through her body.

So this was Maria’s mother.

All the pieces of the puzzle where there, but she hadn't been able to put them together.

“Oh,” Eliza said slowly, shock turning to anger- a rare emotion. “Oh, yeah. I've heard about you. About how you abandoned her, how you’ve been gone for, what? Eight years?”

Maria’s mother raised her hands and stepped back, evidently surprised at the bitterness in her voice. “She didn't tell you the whole story.”

“Which is?” Angelica asked, voice forgiving and curious. She offered a small smile, trying to balance out the anger in her sisters face

Maria's mother twisted her hands, looking down. “My name is Susanna. I was…I needed to pay for my brother’s medication- he was really sick, ended up dying anyways- but I became a sex worker and dropped school. It sounds stupid when I say it like that, but I was tricked into it. A friend of a friend of a friend said he could help me get all the money I needed quickly, and that it would be easy work, but I couldn't get out after I started. At 16, I got pregnant with Maria. I didn't know who her dad was and I was so scared. I…I gave birth and I tried to keep my career despite having a child. While he was alive, my brother watched her, but when he died, I didn't know what to do. Maria was maybe 5 years old. I kept working, left her at home a lot. I needed to pay for the house, for food. When Maria was old enough to understand why mommy kept leaving with strange men, she offered to find work so I wouldn't have to. Of course I wouldn't let her. Finally, I had to emancipate her, and she left, went to school, took a job, and met Reynolds. That's how the story got to…to here. I hadn't seen her in years…I never imagined this would be our reunion…” She closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks. 

Eliza clenched her jaw. “Maybe it wouldn't have been if you'd been the mom she needed,” she snapped. “If you'd stuck around instead of leaving.”

“Eliza…” Peggy cut in, her hand wrapping around Eliza’s arm. “Eliza, that's unfair.”

Eliza dropped her head in shame. Susanna’s eyes were cast down, her hands shaking. Suddenly, she looked very, very young, and it seemed to seep into Eliza how difficult her life must have been. “I'm sorry,” she breathed, tears welling in her eyes. “You just…you remind me of her so much.”

Susanna smiled sadly. “I know, baby, I’ve been told.”

"I'm sorry for your loss, Susanna," she whispered.

"As am I for yours," she smiled despite her tears. "Thank you for loving my baby girl. I can already tell she loved you very, very much."

Eliza gave a broken smile and allowed herself to be ushered away by her sister's. She didn't know how she'd live past today, live to face each new dawn without Maria.

She'd just have to try her best to build from these ashes. Maria would want her to.

“You alright?” Peggy asked softly, squeezing her hand.

Eliza wiped her eyes. “Maybe some day.”

 


	98. Chapter 98

Days would pass where dark clouds never moved from the sun.

Each hour felt like years.

Coping was hard, but not impossible. As weeks went on, smiled began to fleet on faces like a ray of hope, a potential for happiness. There were mountains everyone had to climb- some slower than others, each one different but none less valid than another.

Peggy, as she reached the first summit, only saw another looming in front of her- her future career. She'd dreamed of singing her entire life. Voice lessons were costly, but not out of budget. Those weren't the issues, but rather everything else. Some days it was so hard to cope with seeing her sister in pain that she simply couldn't find it in herself to create anything beautiful when she could only see darkness. Alone, she'd pulled herself out of the despair caused by Maria’s death, but she couldn't live past her sister’s grief. Hours passed where she'd compose songs, trying to get any recognition, and come up with nothing but an empty chord.

Angelica’s mountain never ended, climbing high into the clouds. Every step was a struggle to carry her sisters up with her. It was exhausting, painful, but necessary. For her to ever be at peace, her sisters’ would have to be too. She'd spend hours with them, trying to understand a grief she'd locked away in order to remain strong. The pain was acid burning into her bones, eating her alive. There was always something she couldn't hide completely, and when Eliza would spot it in a lingering touch or a heavy sigh, she'd put more pressure to herself to hide it all.

Only months ago had Lafayette triumphed, reaching a peak where they'd no longer felt worthless, felt urges. Now, a new one rose above them. Maria’s death had pulled them down again, pulling them into unwanted, unneeded memories. They remembered how it felt to flirt with death, to walk the fine line of a bridge railing. They remembered the rush and the relief of being so close to nothing. It was tempting, but seeing how everyone reacted to Maria had them question everything again.

For Herc, the biggest mountain was watching Laf struggle to climb theirs. He knew they hurt, he knew what they thought of when they'd gaze out the window for hours. They where hurt in a way no words or physical contact could ever heal. The mental wounds of Maria’s death were permanent. Herc had to carry them both up his mountain, through every storm and across every gully and nook. All he had was hope- hope that someday they'd both be alright.

Forgiveness is a hard thing to give, especially when the pain inflicted caused so much damage to an already frail person. John needed time he wasn't given. He was chased by pressure, by fear, by a brown eyed boy, to climb his mountain without sure footing. Whatever Alexander was after- friendship, a relationship again- he didn't know. Moving past Maria, learning to put death behind him, was nothing new at all and he worked with it well. What he could never do, however, was learn to live running from Alexander. 

He loved him too much to do that.

There was Alex next, pursuing someone he'd never be able to fix or earn forgiveness from. His guilt were weights around his ankles, making ever step a battle. How could he drag himself up the mountain with the weights of his mistakes pulling him down? He'd watch John vanish out of sight in front of him and run, desperate to keep him in sight. Sometimes he'd be gone for days before Alex would catch a glimpse again.

Of course, lastly, Eliza. She was at a standstill, set up camp on the slope of her mountain. At night, she'd lay on the porch, watching the sky because it was always there, constantly looking down at her, and she could imagine Maria up there with a wide smile and lovestruck eyes, gazing down at her. And when that got too hard, when she couldn't bear the thoughts of her dead lover, she'd close her eyes and let the weight of the universe sit on her chest, let the galaxies explode into existence and die in her heart, let herself be taken by the skies and pulled into the unknown.

It was the only way she could deal with the unimaginable.

By the time a week had passed, nothing seemed to have changed. It was if time had frozen, fractured reflections caught in ice. Anxiety was the only thing that seemed to have increased with a series of vicious storms sweeping South Carolina, and John hadn't heard from his brother yet.

“John, I'm sure he's fine,” Laf soothed as he paced relentlessly. “He's with your father, right?”

 John paused, glancing over his shoulder. “That's what I'm most worried about. They're trapped in a house together. If my dad…if he finds the binder or if something seems off, then…Mark can't go anywhere- he's trapped.”

Laf fell silent, twisting their hands in their lap and fixing their eyes out the window, where their own sun shone brightly. In the distance, the field of graves was barely visible, blocked my houses and hills. Laf wasn't sure if they saw it or just pictured it in their mind. “To think it's only been a week,” they sighed. There was something so hopeless in their voice.

 John came to sit beside them, leaning against their shoulder. “You alright?” he asked gently. “I know…I know it's been especially hard for you. You aren't thinking of…of anything, right?”

Laf put an arm around his shoulders. Their smile was forced. “Of course not.”

Promise me. We can't stand to lose you too, not after all this…” He pulled back, squeezing their arm gently. His eyes burned with how much he meant the words. “Promise me.”

Laf bit their lip. Then, slowly, they nodded. “I promise. You too, John. You promise me now.”

 John also nodded, slowly and hesitantly. “I promise.”

Laf bit their lip. “John-“

“Yeah?”

“If-“ they stopped. This was too hard of a question to ask someone already bucking under so much other stuff. “If something happened to me, if I snapped, or if there was an accident- I'm not planning for anything, this is hypothetical- if something did happen to me and I died or was incapacitated, would you look out for Herc?”

John didn't respond at first, just took their hand is his own. He traced the scar just above their wrist bone, a souvenir from Alexander. His eyes were questioning, but not worried. Finally, he looked up. “I promise.”

“It's just…Eliza has her sisters. Herc doesn't have any siblings. He's not close with Thomas or James, and he and Alexander are still on edge. I need to know that if something did happen- and again, I doubt anything will- I just want to make sure he has someone.” They smiled. “If something happens to you, I'll look out for Alexander.” John opened his mouth to protest. “I know you still love him. I know he still loves you. Don't try and argue.”

John sighed, falling back against the window. “Love is so fucking complicated.”

Laf laughed, ruffling his hair affectionatly. “You can say that again.”

 ///

“How goes?” Herc asked, looking up as Alexander entered the room. He was bent over his sewing machine, clutching a translucent red cloth.

Alexander sat heavily down on the windowsill next to him. “It goes,” he said quietly.

"How's the mission to get back to a stable place with John?”

He shrugged and Herc felt a stir of pity. “I don't know if that's possible. He's so…occupied with Mark, with South Carolina. I don't think he has time to think about…us. I don't know what to do.” In the time since he'd started falling back in with his old friends, started trying to prove that he could be forgiven, Herc had never once turned away. He'd always been there to support Alex’s efforts, to try and figure things out. For that, Alex was eternally grateful.

Herc sighed, setting aside the fabric. “Alex, man. Listen to me, okay?” He stood up and sat beside him. “What John needs right now is support. He doesn't need you to prove that you're still in love with him-“ Alex opened his mouth to say something but Herc shushed him. “I know it's true- we all do. But he doesn't need more turmoil. With Maria, with his sister, with his brother, he's already overwhelmed. Don't make it worse.”

Alex nodded, running a hand through his hair. It was long and matted, unkempt. “I need a haircut,” he laughed shakily, trying to distract himself. “Could you lend me some cash?”

Herc sighed. “There's none to spare. Ask Sam- he used to work at a barber’s shop.”

Laf’s fund was slowly dwindling, slowly disappearing. Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy lived off their jobs and what their father sent them. It was just enough to keep them afloat, but they could always get more if needed. Countless times had they insisted Laf and Herc take some money and countless times had they refused to do so. Herc still worked overtime, insisting Laf concentrate on school and refusing to let them hold the added pressure of a job on top of all they were going through.

Alex nodded. “I'll stop by later.” He stood up, stretching. “I'm starving.”

“Bring me some chips if you come back,” Herc said absently. “And Alex?”

“Yeah?” He stopped by the door.

Herc smiled. “I proud of what you're trying to do.”

 ///

A million worlds away, Thomas and James were sitting in the library. It was lunch break, 12:30, and Thomas stopped by with the usual sandwich and coffee.

 “Hey, Angel.” James smiled, looking up as Thomas came into the room. “What's up?”

Thomas took his place at the little table. “Got you food,” he said with a smile. “When does your shift end?”

James shrugged, taking out a black coffee, a banana muffin, and half a ham sandwich. “I'm out at 1:30,” he said. “Thanks, Thomas.”

Thomas smiled. “I miss you,” he told him. “I feel like you spend all your time here now, and I spend all my time with Laf. We only ever see each other at home.”

 James set down his muffin. “It's true,” he said. “Yeah, I guess so. How are they, by the way?”

Thomas shrugged. “When I first met Laf, they were closed off. I never knew what they were thinking. Then, thankfully, they became an open book. I knew everything.” He laughed breathily, shaking his head. “Everything! But now…suddenly I just can't read them. Logically, I know they aren't okay. I know they're hurting in ways I can't imagine, but…I don't know. They just closed back up.”

James squeezed his hand. His long, strong fingers steadying the faint shake of Thomas’ hand. Gold would look beautiful against those fingers, Thomas thought. “Thomas, think about it. They're hurt, and Maria probably triggered those thoughts again. It's only logical for them to pull back into a shell and guard them self so they don't get hurt.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, “but I've known them for years! Why would they pull away from me?”

James smiled sadly. “Sometimes we don't get to choose who we safeguard our hearts from. Just be there when they need you, and they will need you.”

“I know.”

 

 


	99. Chapter 99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: slight mention of rape and some talk of suicide

“Did you hear?” Lafayette asked, sitting down across from Sam and Herc at the kitchen table.

It was 6:56- dinner time- and they were down to frozen waffles and canned peaches. Money had become even more scarce, with business for Herc slowing down. Laf had gotten a job at a Starbucks- easy and boring. Sam didn't work, despite wanting to. Laf insisted he take time to adjust to his hormones.

"Hear what?” Herc asked, drowning his waffle in sugar free syrup.

Laf started cutting their waffle. “George King lost his trial. Turns out daddy couldn't save him after all.” There was a fine bitterness in their voice, a touch of anger. “Finally, the bastard’s serving time.”

Herc glanced momentarily at Sam, who felt his stomach drop in relief and shock. “For…for his affiliation with Reynolds?” Sam asked, trying to appear normal. His voice had dropped an octave, still slightly strange, but it was getting there. “For…ya know…sleeping with her?”

“Assaulting her, Sam,” Laf corrected savagely. “She didn't have a choice.”

Herc took a long drink of his water. “Did they put the others away yet?” he asked, deciding a topic change would be best for Sam’s sake. Laf wasn't quite right still, not after Maria’s death. They were different, more distant. He didn't want them to say anything they'd regret, but he wondered if they’d even regret it at all.

“Quite a few of them,” Sam said. “I can’t remember the names, but last I heard, they’d taken about six girls from various places in the state and their working on the men involved.” He glanced over at Laf, who was staring at the table. “I know…Lafayette, I know this is hard- for both of you- but her sacrifice is going to free so many people and incarcerate so many that deserve to be incarcerated. It was noble.”

Laf shook their head, pushing away their dinner. “There’s nothing noble about being stripped of your humanity,” they snapped, and proceeded down the hallway to their room.

Sam sighed. “You going after them?” he asked Herc.

“They just need time,” he said quietly. “It’s really hard on them right now, and I think it’s best we let them be for a little.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not on you,” Herc sighed. “Just- with Maria, with Alex, with John. I think they just feel out of control, like nothing is a pattern of predictable anymore. No one ever thought John would forgive Alex. No one ever thought Maria would kill herself.”

Sam nodded, taking a bite of his waffle. They ate in silence for a while, until Herc asked, “are you dealing with the King stuff okay?”

Sam shrugged, nodding. “I mean…I don’t want to believe it, but I have no reason not to, so… you know, I guess I’m okay.”

“Yeah…”

Sam nodded, smiling a little. “I guess we’re all finally safe from him, right?”

Herc grinned. “Finally.”

“I’m sorry for everything he did to you too. I’m sorry for the fear,” Sam apologized softly, bowing his head.

“No…” Herc reached out and put his hand on his shoulder. “Sam, none of this is on you. The situation you were in…you did what you had to do, and the fact you talked to Laf and you got to the point you’re at now, is admirable.”

///

Why the fuck couldn’t it have been them? Laf wondered. Why the fuck did it have to be Maria of all people? She didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve to die. She was so young, so bright. She’d just escaped hell before she was dragged back in. Why couldn’t it have been them? Why couldn’t it have been their body discovered, their funeral? Why did it have to be her?

They paced in a state of something between anger and confusion, rubbing the scars left by Alex. Why couldn’t it have been Alex instead of her? They hated themselves for thinking that and plopped down on the bed.

Eliza didn’t deserve this pain, Angelica didn’t deserve to watch her sister suffer, Peggy didn’t deserve to be treated like an idiot just because she was young. They didn’t deserve that. _Why was it Maria?_ they screamed in their head. _Why wasn’t it me?_

 _Because,_ said that soft voice of reason in their head, _because if it was you, Herc would be in Eliza’s pain, but he doesn’t have siblings to carry him, and John can only do so much when he’s already so broken. Because if it was you, someone would be thinking the same things you are. Because it wouldn’t be you, because when it comes down to it, you won’t fucking do it. You’ve been on the edge so many times and you’ve never been able to actually kill yourself. Admit it,_ the voice growled, _you don’t want to die- you want to live._

_I want to live._

Somehow, the revelation was shocking to them. They realized that if they had a loaded gun in their hand, they wouldn’t turn it on themselves, but rather set it down and walk away. If they stood on that bridge again, they’d close their eyes and feel the wind on their face, not calculate the distance to the water and if they’d survive the fall. They didn’t want to force a bottle of pills down their throat until they foamed and choked. They didn’t want to watch their blood run out of their wrists. They didn’t want to dangle from a rope.

They wanted to live.

They wanted to live, and they couldn’t be sure, they think Maria taught them that.

There was so much pain, so much grief, and they didn’t want to cause that. They didn’t want to be the source of tears in someone else’s eyes, didn’t want to be the reason they sobbed into their pillow at night. They didn’t want to cause those terrible thoughts in someone else’s beautiful, beautiful mind.

Dropping to their knees on the floor, they sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever was out there, then took out their phone. Hands trembling, they took their phone, sending a text to Thomas.

_I’m going to be okay._

Thomas looked down at his screen, a half smile frozen on his face. He shook his head, half in disbelief and half is joy.

 _I’m going to be okay_.

They were alright.

James came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his neck. He read to text, nuzzling against Thomas. “Hey,” he said softly. “What did I tell you?”

Thomas grinned wider, turning his head to James as kissing him gently. “Yeah, you were right.” He sent back a quick text, hesitating before sending, wondering if was enough.

_Thank you._

James took his hand, setting the phone down. “Stop worrying, my love,” he told him gently. “Come on.” He leaned over and kissed him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Thomas murmured, feeling the weight of the world lift off his shoulders at long last. He guided them both to the couch, where they sat.

“We gonna do this?” James asked, laughing as Thomas kissed down his neck. It had been so long since they could do this, free of weight and worry. It had been a long time since they had done this out of love and not the sheer need to suppress thoughts or escape worry for just a little while longer.

Thomas paused. “If you want,” he said, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

 

_We're going to be okay._


	100. Chapter 100

Eliza didn’t put up her umbrella as she made her slow and mournful way to the cemetery. It wasn’t raining yet, but the dark clouds rolling in from the sea showed sure signs of downpour. Angelica hadn’t wanted her to get caught in a storm without protection.

 Funny, Eliza thought. She felt like each day was a storm- was a hurricane- and each day, she realized she didn’t have an umbrella. Sure, the pain had started to subside, drawing back its clawed hands, broken teeth from her neck, but she still felt it breathing on her face.

She just wanted Maria.

She couldn’t have Maria.

Eliza made her way through the forest of gravestones, planted like flowers on the hillside, some cracked and old, some new and pristine. A young man was crouched by one to her left, head resting on the stone. His hands were covered in dirt, and there were new flowers planted around the grave. Tears were running down his face, and she wondered if salt water could help flowers grow.

Maybe she should have brought Maria flowers.

On their third date, Eliza took her to a flower shop and they picked out three different bouquets to brighten up Maria’s room. She couldn’t remember the flowers now, couldn’t remember the difference between poppies and peonies, the distance between here and the moon.

Her grave sat out farther, on the slope of a hill. The space next to it was empty, so Eliza lay down, pressing her back into the dirt, wondering if she could reserve this plot for when she died. She stretched out a hand, planting it over the slight mound. It was like a raw sore on the face of the hill, barren and empty from when it had been dug up.

It was getting late; 6:57pm.

"Hi,” Eliza whispered softly. “Hi, Maria.”

She didn’t know if she was waiting for a response or not, but she let the words sink into the earth.

“I miss you. I miss you every single day, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop, if I’m being honest. Sometimes, I wake up and wonder if it was all a dream, but I know it isn’t. I’m managing, I guess. Of course, my sisters and doing so much for me. I don’t know where I’d be without them. Alex apologized, like I’m sure you wanted, and I did forgive him…kinda. It’s hard. Everyone else did too- except Laf, I guess. They’re still struggling, but John and Alex both seem to be collecting themselves. They do talk now, but it’s distant. Herc’s doing well too, especially with Alex.” She tried to gather her thoughts, think of what she’d wanted to say to Maria. She wanted a ladybug land on the top of the stone, crawling across the smooth surface.

Eliza touched the gravestone, running her fingers along the grooves until they bled from the cold stone. She didn’t speak for almost an hour. “Oh, Maria,” she whispered so softly the wind could have swept it away. “I never regretted what we had except for how short it was because I wanted to walk with you forever... and this was a promise I never meant to make but falling in love is accidental. “

The wind was picking up, whispers surrounding her. She shivered and pulled her jacket tightly around her. The weather had been weird lately, but storms in summer weren’t common. She wondered if Maria was cold right now, deep underground in a box.

No, she told herself. Wherever she was, she was in a better place. She wasn’t scared anymore, wasn’t in pain, wasn’t constrained by the past that seemed to keep running to catch up with her. Wherever she was, she was warm and safe, and Eliza didn’t even know if she believed in Heaven, but just hoping Maria was there was enough to comfort her.

“I’m going to go,” Eliza said softly, looking up at the sky. The clouds were converging, heavy with rain. “I don’t want to get rained on, but I promise I’ll come back tomorrow, and maybe John or my sisters will come with me.” She stood up, brushing off her jeans. “I know you’d want me to be happy, and I’m going to try- I really am. I think maybe one day I can be without you, and I’m trying to start moving in that direction, but I’ll never be complete until we meet again. I love you.”

As she walked down the hill, her heart felt lighter than it had since Maria had left. Letting out an almost happy sigh, she looked up at where the heavy clouds had parted, swept westward by the wind. The sun was starting to appear.

///

“John?”

John took out his earbuds, stepping back from his canvas. “Alexander?”

Alex felt his heart flop a little in his chest. There was paint smeared across his forehead and braided into those curls. God, those curls. He remembered running his hands through them when John would fall asleep on his chest, remembered kissing them, braiding them. Realizing he was staring, he quickly composed himself. “Want to go for a walk?”

John raised a brow questioningly. “Let me finish something. I’ll meet you in five minutes.”

It was getting dark as they walked down the street, headed nowhere. 8:15pm, and the ocean wind was cold and refreshing. Neither of them had said a word thus far.

They came to a playground sitting up on a hill, overlooking the valley town. They sat on the swings for a while, rocking back and forth. Slowly, the lights began to twinkle out like dying stars. Alex took a deep breath.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

John nodded, but he wasn’t looking at the town. His eyes traced the regal curve of Alexander’s nose, his glowing halo of streetlights. “Yeah, it’s cool. You should see the cities in the south though. There used to be a hill I’d go to and I could see the whole city.”

"Yeah.” His hand brushed Johns gently. He felt him tense up. “Sorry.”

John shook his head. “Don’t be. We both know I want this as much as you do.”

“So, what’s the problem with it?” Alex asked.

“I just can’t, Alex.” John bit his lip. “I can’t trust you anymore. I want this, but I want it with old you- before the scandals.”

John laughed bitterly. “They say you only fall in love- real love- three times, you know. It doesn’t have to be romantic- it can be familiar or platonic. The first love is childish. It’s the fairytale love, full of hope and dreams, before real life kicks your ass. That might’ve been Charles Lee. The second is manipulative and toxic- my father.” He stopped, blinking in the light of the town. “I wanted you to be the third- I hoped to God you’d be the third. It’s real love. Real, ‘I-want-to-spend-the-rest-of-my-life-with-you’ love. Somehow…somehow you managed to be all three of them, Alex.”

 _You wanted to spend the rest of your life with me?_   "I’m sorry, John.” He felt his chest shake with regret, felt his words fall short by miles.

“I know.” He sighed deeply. “I won’t deny that I want you, but I don’t want us.”

Alex nodded slowly. “I understand. Friends?”

“We’re working on it. Friends.”

Maybe someday something else.

That night, when they got home and went their separate ways, John went back to his room and stared at his painting for a long time. It was the sun setting through a forest grove, shedding beams of light through the trees, illuminating the ground. In a single, decisive sweep, he spread white all over the canvas, erasing the scene, and started mixing colors for a new one. He usually painted so he didn't have to think, didn't have to concentrate on anything but his paintbrush and the the world he was creating. Tonight, he painted  _so_ he could think.

At 3:35am, he had finished the newest painting; a silhouette of a boy with a regal curved nose, brown eyes and hair, and glowing halo of town lights.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy heck, 100 chapters???? I really need to wrap this up soon, geez. Thank you guys so much for sticking through this obnoxiously long story thus far!


	101. Chapter 101

“Okay.” The doctor was bending over her, her voice calm. “We need you to start pushing now.”

Theo could hardly breathe through the pain, but she felt Aaron’s hand in hers, felt his anxiety and worry, and suddenly she found the strength to keep going. For her baby.

           

It had been a normal day. Theo was home alone, binge-watching Lost for the third time. Aaron was at work, as usual. These past few days, there had been tension between them. He was working overtime, coming home late, hardly ever there to hold her or even have a conversation.

She missed him. A lot.

Recently, she’d felt the baby kicking a lot, squirming, moving impatiently, as if it couldn’t wait to be born, but it was early. She was due in nearly a month. The last time she’d seen those exhausted eyes of Aaron’s light up with pure, unfiltered joy was when he felt the baby kick, when he put his ear to her round belly, eyes wide with joy. He’d kissed her, laughing.

Suddenly, it felt as if her stomach had hardened. A strange pain-not-pain started at her back and moved into her belly. It wasn’t too painful, more like a griping pain. As soon as it was there, it was gone. She felt a tingle of worry shoot down her heart but ignored it.

Several minutes passed before there was the next one, more intense than the first. It whipped the breath out of her lungs, tightening like a vice around her waist. She sank down onto their chair, taking a deep breath.

It happened again nearly 45 minutes later, at 6:34pm. This was the most intense of the three, making her all but black out. She sat down heavily, taking a deep, deep breath. Aaron would be home soon, she thought. It was okay.

The pain continued for three more hours.

Aaron got home at 10pm, utterly exhausted and smelling strongly of coffee. Theo would have thrown herself at him if she’d been in less pain. “Hey,” she said quietly.

“Hey.” He leaned down to kiss her but pulled back. “You look terrible. Are you sick?” Concern morphed into something more like fear. “Is it the baby?”

She shrugged. “I think I’m having contractions,” she said, her hands unconsciously cradling her belly.

His eyes widened. “That’s…that’s early.” His voice was a sickeningly fake calm, layered thick over disbelief and worry.

“I don’t…” she took a deep breath. “I don’t think we need to go to the hospital unless my water breaks.” In her own ears, she sounded just as calm as Aaron.

“I’m calling off of work tomorrow,” he said. “I’m staying here with you.” He sat down next to her, tenderly laying a hand on her stomach.

“You don’t have to.” She cursed herself for saying that. She was really, really glad he was going to be there.

He gave her a lopsided half-smile, like he knew what she was thinking, and yawned. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

"Yeah.” She let him help her up.

The next day, at 12:25pm, her water broke.

They were just lounging, watching TV, when she felt the slick wetness dripping down her legs. For a moment, she was in complete shock, wondering if she’d lost control of her bladder before realizing; “Oh my God, Aaron!”

To his credit, he was extremely, overly calm despite the flood of emotions in his eyes. “Holy fuck.” Deliberately, he stood, helped her up, and guided her towards the door, all while repeating “holy fucking shit,” under his breath in a never-ending stream. He ran back inside and grabbed a blanket to lay over the car seats before helping her into the back, making sure she had enough room to fit comfortably.

“I should call my mom,” she breathed through the contractions. They were getting progressively more and more painful, as well as closer and closer together.

“Yeah.” Aaron slid into the driver’s seat, passing her phone back to her. “Okay…the hospital isn’t too far.” He carefully pulled out of the drive way, and Theo noticed his knuckles were white on the wheel.

“Don’t be worried,” she soothed softly, hoping her voice didn’t give way to shaking.

Aaron laughed shakily, his normally smooth voice gave way to the tremors. “I’m not worried, I’m absolutely terrified.” His eyes were fixed on the road. “Call your mom.”

She obeyed.

They were fortunate, the nurse said. This was one of the last empty rooms they had. As Theo was being wheeled into the elevator, she told them that if they’d arrived even fifteen minutes later, chances were that they wouldn’t have had a room.

That didn’t help with the anxiety she was feeling.

The doctor came almost right way, due to the nurse declaring that she was already dilated. It was 2:12pm. Her mother had told her she’d be here by 3:30, and she hoped that was true. She’d appreciate her mother’s experience in the child giving field.

The doctor, a lovely woman named Michelle, leaned over her. “Theodosia,” she said. “I’m going to need you to push, okay?”

“The baby’s early,” Theo whispered, sweating. “Is everything going to be okay?”

"It’s arriving naturally, not through any induced labor. We won’t know until it’s born.” She squeezed her shoulder slightly. “Push, Theodosia.”

Theo pushed.

She pushed for two hours.

Sweat was rolling down her face, her entire body was exhausted and shaking. Aaron, bless him, was by her side the whole time, whispering any and all encouragement he could into her ear, peppering her sweating face with kiss after kiss after kiss. He never left, not even to check if her mother was there, or to get water. She didn’t think she could have done it without him.

“It’s coming!” Dr. Michelle said loudly. “I see the head!”

“I see shoulders!” a nurse standing behind her, ready to catch the baby, commented excitedly. She looked quite young, and Theo wondered if this was the first birth she'd seen.

Theo closed her eyes, gathering her remaining strength, and pushed one last time.

It was as if a great pressure lifted off of her. The shrill cry of a newborn echoed through the room. She felt her heart swell, felt strength renew her tired body. Aaron squeezed her hands, eyes fixed on the tiny dark bundle in the nurse’s arms.

“She’s a girl,” the nurse cooed after a moment, carefully passing the baby to Theo, who quickly allowed her latch onto her breast to feed. Her cries faded into tiny murmurs of satisfaction. "We'll run an examination later, but she's got some strong lungs. Nothing looks to be detrimental in any way."

Aaron couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t process that this tiny, naked bundle was his daughter. This beautiful gift of life was something that he helped create. His daughter was beautiful. His fiancé was beautiful. Everything was beautiful.

He was officially a father.

The love that filled him was indescribable, impossible. He knew, looking at his small family, there was nothing that would ever top this. This beauty, this emotion. The world had burst into the brightest of colors, springing from nothingness like oil paints of a white canvas. There was no better feeling in the world than this. It was a mix of everything good he’d ever felt tripled with the knowledge that this was his baby- his baby girl.

The baby turned her tiny face away from her food, scrunched up little mouth still kneading at the air, as if searching for more. Her eyes were shut tightly, wrinkling her dark skin. She was covered in blood and fluid, yet the raw beauty behind this new life made tears spring into Aaron’s eyes. When his eyes met Theo’s, he saw the same feelings.

“Do you want to hold her?” Theo whispered, cradling their daughter in her arms.

Aaron couldn’t even speak. He nodded, gently taking her. He didn't really know what to do, but there was beauty in that uncertainty.  _What to say to you?_ He thought. _I’d give the world to you._ He was completely and utterly blown away.

  “Is…is that the baby?” All eyes turned towards the door, where Theodosia’s mother stood, looking as if she’d been turned to stone- frozen. “My grandbaby?”

Theo nodded. “Ma, you made it!” Her exhausted face split into a smile and Aaron thought she’d never looked more like a goddess than in that moment.

“Of course, I made it, sweetness.” She bent to kiss her daughter, before bustling over to Aaron. “Can I…can I hold her?” He hesitated. “I washed my hands, don’t worry.” She took, rather than was given, the baby. “Oh, honey…” Her eyes looked bright. “Oh, she’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

“Isn’t she?” Theo whispered, reaching out to take the baby again. “We don’t have a name yet.”

Looking down at his fiancé and their newborn daughter, Aaron Burr knew two things for certain; nothing could never trump this moment, and he’d do whatever it takes to keep this happiness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I'm so sorry this took so long! I don't know how to write pregnancy stuff, and I've had awful writers block and have been in a slum recently. Also (random, sorry) I got a boyfriend!!! Yay!!!


	102. Chapter 102

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP GUYS IM SO SORRY!  
> I'm trying to update on time ahhhhh. I'm so sorry!

 

Sam cleared his throat, looking in the mirror. He didn’t look too different, but the smallest changed made the biggest impact.  His jawline was sharpened- more defined. The contours of his face were chiseled, as if carved from wood. His voice was deeper too. It was the small things that made him happiest. The body hair, the cracks in his voice. He'd thanked Lafayette a hundred times over, but it would never be enough.

When he went out, people no longer called him “ma’am”, instead, it was “sir”, and “mister.”

He loved it.

There were no words to express the joy he felt when- _finally_ -people saw him the way he craved to be seen. They were minor changes, but they were changes none the less, and with King safely away, he couldn’t be happier. But-

 Of course, there had to be a ‘but’. Of course it couldn’t just be okay. Nothing was ever truly okay. Truthfully, he was better than he’d ever been, but he still had the guilty craving, that inexplicable longing to see King. To see that light in his eyes, those toned arms hidden under sleeves, that crooked, crazy smile. He wanted to see the way his hair flopped in his eyes, his voice lilted with that accent.

He’d try to remind himself of the bad, to pull up everything terrible he’d done. He remembered spray painting the f-slur on the back of a pickup truck, remembered sprinting out of a forest after throwing stones at campers, autumn nights when they’d toilet paper houses, and sneaking onto private property to swim in lakes (Sam preferred to stay out of the water), but with those thoughts came the memories of how _sexy_ he’d been with that smirk, shirt clinging to his chest, soaked with sweat, or lake water, or who knows what.

Maybe if he hadn’t taken those last leaps, the homophobia, the Reynolds deal… Sam cut himself off there. He didn’t want to finish those thoughts. He couldn’t lust after King anymore.

But he knew he wasn’t all bad, right? They’d never meant to truly _kill_ , but rather scare or injure.

 _Sam, that doesn’t make it right_ , he scolded sharply. _He’s a batshit crazy man, and you should be glad to be away from him!_

But Sam was, remarkably, batshit crazy too.

 

///

 

“Postpartum hemorrhages, otherwise known as PPH, are the leading causes of maternal mortality,” the doctor told Aaron Burr twenty hours after the birth. “They’re cause by the failure of passing all of the placenta after birth. Was she exhibiting any previous signs of bleeding, dizziness, or weakness?”

Words faded in and out of his ears, floating through his head like a fog. His body felt light, as if he was floating in space, drifting in between stars and planets as red as the blood that he’d found surround his fiancé like a coffin.

_Only 45 minutes ago, he’d gone to get Theo from their room where she’d been resting because the baby was crying for her milk. He’d noticed she looked somewhat pale, been somewhat shaky, but he had attributed it to the labor she’d endured only hours before. He couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been._

_The baby, still unnamed, was curled in his arms, her tiny face scrunched up in a shrill wail. He sent a quick prayer of gratitude to the heavens that she was healthy. Sure, she was very, very small, only weighing 5.2lbs, but she had been premature with no health problems, and that in itself was a miracle. He pressed a soft kiss to her warm head, smiling as her cries faltered momentarily. With that, he gently pushed open the door to their room._

_His heart faltered and stopped dead in his chest._

_Theo was lying still on the floor only feet from the bed. There was blood everywhere, trailing out of the bathroom, surrounding her, pulsating from between her legs. It was an immediate thought to turn the baby’s face from the horrific scene, as if paternal instincts had already set in._

_"Theo!” he cried out. “Theodosia?” He couldn’t tell if she was breathing, and he grabbed the phone, dialing 911._

“Mr. Burr are you alright?” the doctor asked gently. Aaron couldn’t remember his name, couldn’t remember anything but the words ‘postpartum hemorrhage.’ White haze incased his head, drowning him. He sat down heavily on the chair.

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “No, I didn’t notice anything going on with her. She was tired, but she’d also just given birth. I assumed it was normal. Is she okay? Where’s my daughter?”

"Mr. Burr…”

“Where’s my daughter?” Nurses had whisked her away, checking for any problems potentially caused by Theodosia’s condition. “Where is she?”

“Mr. Burr, she’s being checked over again. I’ll send for the nurses to bring her once they thoroughly examine her,” the doctor soothed. “Mr. Burr, we can’t tell you what’s going to happen to Theodosia. They’re issuing a blood transfusion, but her condition is not yet stable.”

It seemed like ten thousand years passed before the nurses handed him his baby, declaring her, once again, in perfect health. He held her like he never would let her go, pressing her fragile, tiny body against his chest so she cooed in confusion, tiny hand resting on his face. It was only 10:45, but it seemed like time had stopped, allowing for the passage of grief and confusion.

The world never seemed to stop moving. He sat out in the waiting room. Watched people come and go, felt the minutes tick tock by, the clock never stopped, time never slowed; it felt like time should have stopped. Should take a moment to breathe, to realize Aaron’s world was slowly falling to pieces, should allow him a second of nothingness.

They declared her dead at 11:23am.

In the end, the blood lost and the strength lacking was just too much, they said. Her body just…gave up. Just…gave up.

Aaron couldn’t even register what the words meant, just replayed it over and over and over in his head until the undeniable, fixed reality of what had happened sunk in and left him breathless, so overcome by grief that a nurse had taken the baby from his arms in fear he may collapse.

The world had come crashing down in a moment.

He couldn’t remember demanding his baby back, but the nurse apologized and handed her over. He’d just lost his fiancé, his best friend, his love, his sun, mood, and stars, but he’d be damned if anything happened to this tiny life in his arms.

The last remnant of the woman he’d loved with his entire being.

He couldn’t wrap his head around her being gone yet. It seemed so unlikely, so impossible, as if this was hide-and-go-seek taken too far, as if she’d just had to go back to Jack for a little while, and she’d return, albeit with tear stained cheeks; but she’d return. She needed to return. To come back to him.

She had been his home, his constant in life. He’d made a house out of her smile, windows of her eyes, and sunlight from her soul. He couldn’t return to that home that wasn’t a home without her. He needed her there.

The baby started to cry, tiny hands fisted up in the air.

He wondered if she missed her mom.

 


	103. Chapter 103

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH SORRY!!! I've been swamped with work, but I'm trying to get back on track. Sorry for the short chapter. Also sorry for google translate French.

For a while, it had seemed everything was okay. It seemed that life had finally drawn her cold hands away and planted flowers instead of fires. The blooming hillside of James and Thomas' lives was only rained upon during moments of hesitation and uncertainty that came with the realization that Thomas' long fingers supported the delicate arch of a ring perfectly, and that the contrast of gold against James' dark skin was a sight to behold.

And then came the hurricane.

It had been a long time since Aaron Burr had contacted either James or Thomas, but when his name lit up Thomas’ phone, vibrating on the couch armrest, it was apparent something was wrong.

"What’s up?” Thomas answered lazily, pausing _Star Wars_. James watched his expression change from confusion, to concern, to bridging on tears. “Oh my God…Aaron…”

James furrowed his brow, dark eyes digging at that strange look on his boyfriend’s face, trying to read it. He’d never seem that before, that empathy and heartbreak. “What is it?” he asked in a low voice. “Put him on speaker.”

Thomas obliged, but Burr said nothing. His rasping, tangled sobs were the only things coming through. James felt his heart drop, remembering Theodosia had been pregnant, and he wondered if something had happened. “Hey, Aaron…”

Burr sniffled, evidentially trying to regain composure. “ _Theo’s dead,_ ” he whispered.

The icy shock of his words rendered James momentarily speechless. “Oh God…what happened?” he whispered when he regained use of his voice.

 _“Postpartum hemorrhage_.” The words were spit out like a curse, spilling through the phone like a disease. James pictured them as inky black slime, cascading in a waterfall onto their carpet.

“The baby…?” Thomas asked carefully.

“ _She’s alive,_ ” Aaron confirmed and, as if on cue, they heard a soft coo. _“She’s early, but healthy. I want to name her after her mother.”_ His voice cracked. _“I don’t know how to take care of her without Theo. The…the hospital provided me with formula but…”_

“God…Aaron, if there’s anything we can do…” James offered. “I used to babysit. I can help.”

“You did?” Thomas looked at him, surprised.

“Not now, Thomas. Point is, I can take care of her while you’re at work…are you going to keep working? What about college?”

He could picture Burrs shrug. _“I don’t know. I want…I want to have the funeral before I decide anything. Her mom’s here right now, helping me take care of the baby. I just…I don’t even know anymore…”_

“I’m so sorry,” Thomas said softly. “Aaron, I am so, so sorry. I can’t…” He looked over at James, squeezing his hand. “I can’t imagine.”

 _“I hope you never have to go through this,”_ Aaron said, his voice very, very small. _“Theo’s mom is leaving soon to do paperwork…I’m a disaster right now, but if you want to, you can…you can come and meet my baby. I don’t really want to be alone. Sorry.”_

“Hey,” James sighed, “don’t worry. We’ll come, I’d love to meet your daughter.”

The ride to Aaron’s home was quiet, cold. Neither of them had much to say. They hadn’t spoken to Burr in so long, but they’d never imagined the next time they’d see him would be to comfort him during this unimaginable heartbreak. James took Thomas’ hand, squeezing it tight.

"You’re thinking about that night,” Thomas said- stated. There was no question to his words.

"You could have died,” James murmured. “I know…I know you’re fine. I know everything’s okay, but… God, poor Aaron. And the baby…”

Thomas didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.

///

Just “friends” turned out to be very hard to do.

Alex found himself scuttling out of rooms far too frequently to avoid being one on one with John. He could hardly stand it, he soon realized. Now that they were speaking again, it took all his willpower not to drop in small flirtations, not to reach out and brush Johns hair behind his ear, not to kiss each freckle on his face. He knew Herc and Laf, who were often around, could sense the tension. They'd leave the room, let the tension seep into the tiles.

It had been a several days since the untimely death of Theodosia. The Schuylers spent most of their time babysitting while Burr tried to grapple with work, and grief, and being a single father. The news had hit everyone hard, especially Eliza, who felt like she’d lost the last piece of Maria she’d had. Theo and Maria had been so similar in so many ways, and now they were both gone.

Alex found himself sitting on the front steps, wondering when this cycle of death, healing, and tragedy would ever end. Mary, Maria, Theodosia…Too many…They’d all been kids, been so young. It was a jarring awakening regarding their own mortality, and, horribly enough, Alex would wonder who would be next.

“Hey.” Laf sat down next to him. They looked tired, but there was a light in their eyes that had been slowly growing stronger over the months. “What’s up?”

Alex shrugged. “Don’t want to be inside right now.”

 _“C'est à propos de John?_ ” Is this about John?

Alex looked up, surprised. _“Pourquoi tu dis ça ?"_ he asked.  Why do you say that?

“It’s obvious, this tension,” Laf said with a small smile. _“Vous vous aimez toujours. Qu'est-ce qui vous arrête?”_ You still love each other. What’s stopping you?

 _"Il ne pardonnera jamais mes scandales. Il m'a dit qu'il voulait ce qu'on avait, pas ce qu'on ferait maintenant.” _He'll never forgive my scandals. He told me that he wanted what we had, not what we would do now.

“That’s fair.”

Alex nodded. _“Yeah. C'est dur de ne pas le vouloir. Mais je sais qu'il ne veut pas que je le fasse.” _It’s hard not to want it. But I know he doesn’t want me to.

 _"Débarrassez-vous de cette tension. C'est tellement évident, et nous sommes tous si fatigués de vous baise des yeux."_  Get rid of that tension. It’s so obvious, and we’re all so tired of you eye fucking.

 _"Baise des yeux?”_ Alex repeated incredulously.

“Don’t deny it,” Laf smirked. _“Se parler. Trier cette énergie sexuelle sur. Pour l'amour de Dieu, faites-le vite.”_ Talk to each other.  Sort this sexual energy out. For God’s sake, do it quickly.

"Pourquoi parlons-nous en français de toute façon? « Alex asked.  Why are we talking in French anyway?

“The window is open, mon amie. _Je ne pense pas que vous voudriez que John entende cette conversation."_  I don’t think you’d want John to hear this conversation.

Alex laughed. “Good call. Hey, by the way, how’re you doing?”

Laf smiled, shaking their head. “I’m coping. I’m much better than I have been. There are still…there are still times when thoughts come back- bad ones- but I’m learning to deal with it.”

“Yeah?” Alex watched them fidget. “Why are you lying?”

Laf sighed. “I’m not.”

“Mon amie, I know you too well. Tell me.”

“It’s just hard. And I’m trying…I really, really am. Thomas and James are struggling. Burr and the Schuylers are struggling. You and John… It’s all just a lot.” They smiled with tightly drawn lips.  It’ll be fine though, right? We get through it.”

Alex nodded, touching their arm. Surprisingly, they let him wrap his slim fingers around his wrist, nails resting gently on the faded and healed wounds. The echo of that horrible, horrible night bashed into their memories. “I’m so sorry,” Alex said quietly, watching them pull them self away from the flashback.

They didn’t speak, just rested their head on his shoulder.

From the window, John watched, and felt his heart ache.

 


	104. Chapter 104

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IM SWAMPED IMMA TRY AND UPDATE LIKE EVERY WEEK OR EVERY 10 DAYS SORRYYYYYY

Days came and went. Wounds scabbed over but never healed. Aaron named the baby after her mother- Theodosia. She was adored by everyone, especially Angelica. She was so used to caring for her own sisters that babysitting wasn’t an inconvenience or even something to bat an eye at. She loved it.

Eliza went to visit Maria every day, and every day she came back with tear stains on her cheeks but a smile on her face. Peggy and Angelica observed this and said nothing. Eliza wasn’t broken anymore, but she was still damaged. It was something they could never help and would never understand, but they gave her money for flowers and sometimes a cup of coffee which she’d leave at the grave.

Peggy decided to leave home, after many weeks of consideration. She decided none of the colleges accommodated her musical interests and she didn’t want to fight to be known by her name instead of “another Schuyler.” She’d applied to an out of state fine arts school unbeknown to anyone else and had been accepted. Grudgingly, everyone helped her pack. They didn’t want her to leave but everyone, especially her sisters, knew her bright-as-the-sun spirit could not be contained in this town where nothing seemed to be okay. She left a week before school started back up again. The summer hadn’t wanted to stay for long.

Things had changed. Laf didn’t like how they were headed. They’d had a huge fight with Herc a few months back, which had led to them sleeping at Thomas’ for a few days while everyone cooled off. Looking back, they couldn’t remember what they’d fought about, but the stress of Peggy leaving, and their money running out, something had snapped. They couldn’t recall what they’d said exactly, but they remembered running out in cold anger, leaving Herc on the floor in tears. Afterwards, they didn’t go back to what they used to be. They fought more often, each argument ending in clothes strewn across the floor and teeth tearing at lips. Sam moved out- who could blame him?

With King put away, Sam had finally relinquished the fear he’d instilled in him. He’d saved enough money for an apartment and to continue his T on his own. It had been a decision a long time coming, and he didn’t regret it. He’d felt himself overstaying his welcome, and felt tension build between Herc and Laf. He decided…he decided it was just time to move on. Nothing could stay the same forever.

Alex tried to distract himself. He really, really tried, but every time he saw John, he felt his chest tighten with grief and longing for what they could have been but would never be. He spent hours with Eliza, trying to find beauty in the men and women walking past coffee shops, forcing himself to go out with whoever was decently attractive. He never felt anything. Looking back, he’d gone out with very similar people- all with long curly hair and green eyes. Even his subconscious wanted John. At night, he looked through their old texts, relive those good times through the artificial light of his screen. It hurt to see what he’d ruined.

Even the weather seemed to sense the air of misfortune, because it began to rain more and more frequently. Twice, school was cancelled due to it being unsafe. Surprisingly, Alex didn’t find fear in the storm, but rather learned to love the screams because it was the only thing that would drown out the voices in his head- the only thing louder than he was. He’d sit by the window and watch the rain roll in thick sheets down, dripping from the sides of the houses, plummeting towards the pavement.

Then, of course, there was John. He was okay, for once. For once, he wasn’t turning to other aspects of his life to gain control. For once, he knew he had influence over his life, over his decisions. Nothing was spiraling, except for the deep-rooted love he still held, cradled like a baby to his chest, for Alex. He’d long since accepted that it would never fully leave him, but he’d stopped imagining that little apartment overlooking the city where they’d spend their days until rings and diplomas came into the picture. He knew they wouldn’t have a future, but he still- in the back of his mind- wished it were possible.

He decided to move back into that little beach house, alone this time. The owners had agreed to rent it to him at a reasonable price and he had long since overstayed his welcome at the Schuyler’s despite what they told him. He knew they’d prefer him gone, especially now that he was taking better care of himself.

The first thing he did after he unpacked was set up his easel and paints. He hadn’t painted in a very, very long time, and he missed it. There were a million things on his mind and he wanted them out, wanted to watch the brushes bleed thoughts onto the canvas. First, he painted the beach, then painted over it. Beaches were cliché and boring. Then, he painted the kitchen where the dining room table still sat, dusty, unused. He painted the wood grain, the tired old chairs. He painted the dish washer behind it, and the old stack of magazines, and over all of it, he painted two almost transparent shadows entwined in an embrace, swaying under the dusty kitchen light.

A distant memory.

_"Why are you up?” John asked sleepily, leaning against the fridge, watching Alex cut up an apple. Bach floated softly out of his phone._

_"Couldn’t sleep. I’m hungry.” He smiled over at John, eyes tired._

_“Is it the wind?” He knew Alex didn’t like storms._

_He shrugged. “Yeah, sorry. Why are you awake?”_

_John gestured to the fridge. “Thirsty. Don't be sorry."_

_The smack of a branch in the howling wind made Alex startle. He dropped the knife and it clattered on the tiles, inches from his foot. “Shit!” he swore. He knelt to get it, but his hands shook too much to pick it up. He sat there, kneeling for a couple of seconds, body shaking._

_John crouched beside him, picking it up and setting it on the counter. “Come here,” he whispered, pulling the shorter boy into a hug. Alex melted against him, face pressed against his neck. “It’s okay.”_

_They stood like that, swaying gently to Bach until Alex’s shoulders went loose and he yawned. John felt his heart warm and thought with a panic, “I can’t like him.” He quickly pushed the thought aside and decided to think this through in the morning. “Let’s go to bed, Alex,” he murmured, picking up the plate of apples. Alex nodded, pulling away. John missed his warmth the second it was gone._

“Stop it,” John told himself. “Stop thinking about that. It’s over now.”

 _It’s over now_.

           

 


End file.
